


How to Treat Your Lover - Book 5

by tamibrandt



Series: How to Treat Your Lover Saga [5]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamibrandt/pseuds/tamibrandt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timeline - (Angel: The Series, Season 5)<br/>Summary – Angel and the team are stunned when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart give them control of the L.A. office. The gang quickly moves in, and although everyone is delighted at the amazing resources they now have at their command, they can’t stop wondering what the catch is. But the biggest mystery of all revolves around a small package Angel receives containing an amulet and a handful of dust—which coalesces into a very-much-alive Spike.  Angel(us)/Spike; Buffy. Rated NC-17</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 68-A

##  _Chapter 68:  Step 5 – Acceptance (Part 1)_

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Random Alley, Night_  
**  


A young woman walked alone through the empty alley in the dark, her footsteps echoing back to her from the concrete walls.  Suddenly, a vampire leaped out from behind a dumpster and she screamed in fear.  From his Batman-like vantage point atop a nearby high-rise building, Angel heard her scream.

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” the girl begged, slowly backing away from the vampire.  "I can get you money.  You don’t have –”  The vampire interrupted her pleas, grabbing her, and she shrieked, “Somebody help!  Aah!  Aah!”

Angel sprinted across the rooftop, grabbing a guide cable and jumping heedlessly over the edge of the rooftop.  Swinging into the alley like Spider-Man, he delivered a kick to the attacking vampire's face, knocking him to the pavement.  Performing a mid-air back-flip, Angel released the cable, landing in the alley with his leather coat billowing about him like Batman's cape in a convenient Gotham breeze.  He turned around, casually sauntering toward the downed vampire.

“Doesn’t sound like the lady’s interested,” Angel observed conversationally.  “Maybe you’re coming off as too needy.”

The vampire got to his feet, launching a side kick into Angel’s ribs, and the terrified young woman looked on as the vampires traded punches.  Angel kicked the attacking vampire in the chest, knocking him to the ground, but the vampire was up on his feet in a matter of seconds, charging Angel again.  Angel grabbed the vampire’s foot, spinning him around in the air, before slamming him into one of the alley walls.  As the vampire collapsed on the pavement again, Angel drew a wooden stake from his belt, twirling it like a gunslinger might twirl a Colt six-shooter, then plunged it dramatically into the vampire’s chest.  The vampire obligingly disappeared in a cloud of frustrated dust.

“What ju –” the girl gasped in awe.  “I don’t understand.”

“Look, don’t try.  Just get yourself home and stay out of dark alleys.  You’ll be all right.” Angel’s smile was pasted on, lacking real comfort.

As he turned to walk away, the girl persisted, “But – who are you?”

“No one,” Angel replied tonelessly, without looking back at her.

Angel perked up as cars screeched to a halt in front of him.  A group of armed men dressed in black SWAT-type Kevlar gathered at one end of the alley, pointing their weapons in Angel’s direction.

“Angel!” one of the men addressed him with relief in his voice.  He clicked on his mic and reported, Area’s secure.  Angel is unharmed.  Hostile’s contained.  Sweep area and confirm.”  He pulled off his ski mask.  “Angel, sir.”

Several cars pulled up to the end of the alley, all of them directing their headlights at Angel.  A second group of people deployed from these vehicles, walking out of the light, toward the vampire.

“Angel!” a lawyer greeted.

“We got report of your movement and came for backup,” the man in Kevlar explained.

“But –” Angel was mystified by the congregation of people in the alley.

“I’m Agent Hauser.  I run your operations team,” the man in Kevlar introduced himself.

“Angel!” the lawyer exclaimed, catching up to them.  “Hi, Glad we caught you.  Really would –” The man turned to a notary behind him, “Get the forms from her.”  He turned back to Angel.  “Really would prefer it if you didn’t leave a rescue scenario until we had a chance to control the scene.  Of course, that is your decision, sir, but –”

“How did you guys –?” Angel asked, confused about why his law firm was assembled in the random, filthy alley.

The lawyer gestured at Angel's suit.  “There’s a tracking device in your lapel.  And what a time-saver, too, huh?” he sighed in relief, glancing at his wristwatch.

A woman in a three-piece business skirt, sporting a severely tight bun of hair, stepped close to the girl whom Angel had just rescued.  She shoved a contract into the girl’s startled face.  “This is to confirm that you have been rescued by Angel, CEO and President of Wolfram & Hart.”  A pen was stuffed into the girl’s hand, and she blindly signed the lines where she was directed, completely mystified by the whole night.  Her roommate was _not_ going to believe a word of this when she got back home.  The businesswoman was flipping through the paperwork as soon as she signed, or initialed, each page.  “And this is to indemnify Wolfram  & Hart of any –”

Angel was still looking around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, while the lawyer was still rattling his ear off.  Suddenly, he was shoved in the girl’s direction.

“If we can just get a couple of pictures of you two, that would be great,” the lawyer said cheerfully.  While the bulbs flashed, the lawyer stepped in close, whispering, “Now, uh, the vampire that you terminated, he actually _did_ work for one of your clients.”  The lawyer cringed at that thought, but waved it away with a grin.  “But, hey!  It’s your first week, no one will squawk, right?”  He clapped Angel on the shoulder before walking away.

“You run a law firm?” the girl asked him, while still signing away her rights and absolving Wolfram & Hart of any wrongdoing.

“No!” Angel exclaimed innocently, but looked around at the mob of suits in the alley.  “I mean – well, sort of.  I mean – just lately.”

The businesswoman was still flipping through pages, oblivious to their conversation.  “I need you to initial here, concerning your immortal soul.”

Signing the document where indicated, the girl asked Angel, with a tone of disgust, “You did this for _publicity_?”

“No!” Angel insisted.  “I help –” realizing how silly it sounded now, he trailed off, “the helpless.”

Suddenly, the lawyer was back, buzzing in his ear.  “Would you like me to bring your car around, sir?  Or anything at all?  A mocha perhaps?  Decaf?”

Angel continued to stare at the array of people in utter disbelief.

**************************

  
  
**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby_ **  


The mail clerk pushed a basket filled with office mail along a hallway.  Atop the pile of envelopes and packages is an envelope addressed to Angel.  As the clerk passed the elevator, the arrival bell dinged.  Both front and back panels of the elevator opened and Fred stood there, confused, holding a box of her personal belongings.  She looked out of the wrong side while Wesley approached the elevators from the lobby side, carrying a coffee mug.

“Fred?” Wesley inquired.

“Wesley!” Fred squealed, just as the elevators were beginning to shut.  Finally, someone she recognized.  Wesley lurched forward, holding open the doors as Fred stepped into the lobby.  “Oh, I’m always getting turned around.”  She finally took in the expanse of the lobby with an expression of awe.

“Can I help you with that box?” Wesley offered.

“It’s so big!” Fred exclaimed, still intimidated by the lobby.

Wesley followed her example, examining the lobby as well.  “It does take some getting used to.”

“Have you seen my lab?” Fred asked excitedly, glancing at him.  “It’s giganamous!  And _I’m_ in charge!”

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble –” he began, but she cut him off.

“I don’t even understand half of what they’re doing.  There’s this machine, six feet tall, it makes this noise – _whoompa_!  _Whoompa_!  _Phht_!  Not a clue.”

“Well, I’m still stuck back at:  ‘Why on earth are we here?’” Wesley told her.

“You mean because we’re crusaders against evil and now the law firm that represents most of the evil in the world has given us its L.A. branch to run however we want, probably in an attempt to corrupt, divide, or destroy us, and we all said yes in, like, three minutes?”

Fred’s rambling caused Wesley to take a deep breath, and he nodded.  “Your run-on sentences have gotten a lot less pointless.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Fred smiled.  “And a tad condescending.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you –” Wesley gestured toward the box in her arms.

“Ms. Burkle!” an employee from the lab called out, rushing down the stairs.

Wesley and Fred both swiveled around one hundred-eighty degrees to see a young man jogging towards them.

“Hi!  Oh, um, Wesley, this is Knox.  And I told you to call me Fred,” she added, addressing Knox.

“Yes, and a-any minute now, I’m going to start.  Ha!  That’s a promise from me to you.”  He pointed at the box in her arms.  “Can I help with that?”

Oh, thank you,” Fred smiled graciously, brown eyes sparkling.

“So, Knox, how long have you been, uh, evil?” Wesley asked, his tone clipped.

“Oh!  Heh!  I just mix the potions, you know?  And now that I’m taking orders from _el jefe_ here, I’ll probably be saving the world on a weekly basis.

Fred giggled at that, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Good for you,” Wesley remarked flatly, eyes narrowing.

“Do you know how to get to your office from here?” Knox addressed Fred.

Why, did somebody eat my breadcrumbs?” she teased.

“Ha!  It’s not that hard.  I’ll show you.”

“Thanks, Knoxy,” Fred said cheerfully, following him to the stairs.  She turned back to Wesley with a cavalier, “See ya!”

“Oh, it was nice to meet you!” Knox called back to Wesley before they ascended the stairs together.

Wesley was watching Fred leave when Gunn yelled, “Think fast!”  He threw a basketball toward Wesley, who caught it against his belly with one hand, because the other still held the coffee mug.  “Ha!  Gotta be faster than that in this place.”

“Cricket’s more my game,” Wesley replied distractedly.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Gunn glanced towards the stairs then back at Wesley.  “How’s Fred doing?”

“I’m sure Knoxy will take wonderful care of her.”  That caused a confused expression to cross Gunn’s features.  “Don’t you think it’s a bit unseemly to add Y’s on the end of people’s names?”

“Does that mean I have to call you ‘Westle’?” Gunn inquired.

Wesley frowned at that.  “Made up your mind about what?”

Gunn pulled Wesley towards two offices that were separated by a wall.  “Oh!  I want the one on the left.  This one makes me feel a little bit less completely out of place.  I’d say seventeen percent less.  Plus—,” he spread his arms out toward the floor to ceiling windows that had necromancy-tempered glass.  “A little bit of a view of the mountains.  I’ve lived my whole life in L.A., now I find out there are mountains.  A brother should be told!”

“It’s very nice,” Wesley agreed, admiring Gunn’s choice of an office.

“So is yours.  I mean, if it works for you,” Gunn said, walking to the adjoining office.  “We can switch if you don’t like the – you know, the kung pao or whatever.”

“Feng shui,” Wesley corrected.

“Right,” Gunn nodded, then shook his head, totally lost.  “What’s that mean again?”

“That people will believe anything.  Actually, in this place, feng shui will probably have enormous significance.  I’ll align my furniture the wrong way and suddenly catch fire, or turn into pudding,” Wesley mused.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Gunn asked.

“You’re not?” Wesley asked skeptically.

“Man, do I _look_ like I belong here?  You got the mystical creds at least.  I just hit stuff.  I mean, even if this works, and we can turn this place around, use it to do some good, it’s going to be a long, long while before any of us gets anywhere near comfortable here,” Gunn said.

Just then, they turned to see Lorne walk by, comfortably talking on a cell phone accompanied by an assistant who was carrying three binders.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s perfect!  Yes, it’s perfect.  It’s the project you’ve been waiting for.  Yeah, it’s **_Joanie Loves Chachi_** meets **_The Sorrow and the Pity_**.  It’s **_Joanie Loves Pity_**.  And you’re –” Lorne put the phone to his shoulder and nods at one of the binders the assistant had opened up.  “Yes, that carpet’s great because I want our clients to become dizzy and vomit.  Keep flipping, huh?”  Lorne put the phone back to his ear.  “Yes, you’re a shoo-in.  The part’s yours.  Yeah, I’ve got a whole freezer full of horses’ heads downstairs.  No, I’m just kidding.  But listen, the producer’s a client, so read it and we’ll talk.”  The man with the binders tapped him on the arm and Lorne put his hand over the receiver.  “Okay.  Better.  Horrible and pathetic, but better.”

As Lorne and his assistant passed them, the elevator doors opened to reveal Angel standing inside.

“You lost, boss?” Gunn teased as Angel stumbled out of the elevator.

Angel approached Gunn and Wesley.  “On a lot of levels.”  He gestured widely with his hands.  “Did you hear what happened to me last night?”  He started across the lobby, flanked by Gunn and Wesley.

“Did you get lucky?” Gunn guessed.

As if Gunn hadn’t spoken, Angel continued, “They put a tracer on me.  I was working the town, helping the helpless, which is a thing I like to do.  All of a sudden, the entire firm shows up in the alley.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Wesley assured him.

Buttoning his jacket, Angel made a vow, “We’re turning this place inside out.  If they want to see how I handle running Wolfram & Hart, they’re going to find out.  Everything must go –”

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office_  
**  


Angel casually opened the double doors leading into his office and came to an abrupt halt, silenced by what he saw on his huge oak desk.  “Starting with that.”

A young woman wearing a red business skirt-suit perched too comfortably on the edge of Angel’s desk, her long legs crossed, their shapeliness accentuated by an accent light shining down on her from overhead.

“Hi.  It’s really neat to see you guys,” she greeted them with an overabundance of cheer.

Angel unbuttoned his jacket, approaching her with clear mistrust.  “I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be my office.”

“It’ll never happen again,” she replied, with obviously false contrition.  “I just wanted to, you know, see your face.”

“You like to make an entrance,” Angel observed dryly.

“Do you always open both doors when you enter a room?” she asked.  When Angel looked away from her she continued, “I don’t need to make an entrance.  I need to make an impression.  I’m going to be your liaison to the firm.  I’ll help you find your way.  My name is Eve.  And just to get the whole irony thing out of the way –” she picked up a shiny red apple from the desk, throwing it at Angel.

He easily caught the apple with one hand, glancing at it.  “Who do you answer to?”

“The Senior Partners, and if you’re thinking, which, by the way, you are, that you can use me to get to them, let go of the dream.  I answer to them.  I don’t lunch with them.”

“Still – a pretty powerful position for a young woman,” Wesley observed.

“How, exactly, can you be sure I’m either of those things?” Eve asked coyly.  She slipped off the desk, beginning to pace the room.  “Okay, let me tell you how this works.”

“I thought _I_ was in charge,” Angel interrupted.

Eve nodded.  “Of the Los Angeles offices of a multi-dimensional _corporation_.  Now, I’m stressing that last word because that’s what we are.  We’re a business, and we have a bottom line.  Now, you could take your new client lists and start hacking away from the top down.  A lot of our clients are demons, and – almost all of them are evil.”

“Almost?” Angel repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Things are always more complicated than they seem, champ,” Eve shook her head.  “You can shut this place down, but – then – well, you wouldn’t have it anymore.  If the place closes down, the connections dry up.  Evil will go next door.  This is the catch – I’m _explaining_ the catch so you don’t have to stand around wondering what it is.  See, in order to keep this business running, you have to keep this business running.  And that means keeping your clients – most of them, anyway – happy.”

“It means letting them get away with stuff,” Gunn remarked, clearly disliking that idea.

Eve chuckled.  “Sweetie, they were getting away with it while you were all sitting around your hotel waiting for the phone to jangle.  Well, you’re _on the ins_ now, and you can stop the worst of it.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe find some new solutions to some old problems.”  Then she slipped into annoyingly chipper high gear.  “Come _on_! Isn't anybody _excited_?  This is a crazy time for fun.  The most powerful evil around has given a pivotal position over to its sworn enemies.  You’re not scared, are you?”

Angel glared at Eve, taking an expressive bite of the apple, pleased by the crunch it made.

“The client files are all in there,” Eve pointed toward the adjoining conference room.  “You might want to start going through them.”

***************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Conference Room, Midnight_  
**  


Angel, Lorne, Fred, Wesley and Gunn were assembled around a conference table laden with stacks of file folders, and they were clearly exhausted.

“This is unbelievable,” Angel announced, glancing over the table for the umpteenth time.  It didn’t look like they'd made the slightest dent in the stacks.

“I think I lost my appetite.  Which is a first,” Fred commented.

“Hmm, this is interesting,” Lorne said to himself, reading the file currently in front of him.  “Apparently Joe Kennedy tried to get out of his deal with the firm.”

“That explains a lot,” Angel observed.

“Yeah, but George Senior – he read the fine print.  There’s no one these guys don’t have a piece of,” Lorne declared.

Angel stood up, stretching to rid his tired muscles of innumerable kinks he didn't think he could still be afflicted with.  “How are we even supposed to start making things right?”  He tossed his file on the table, disheartened.

“Here’s a winner,” Gunn interjected.  “Corbin Fries.  On trial for smuggling Asian girls in for cheap labor and prostitution.  Been charged with drugs, gun running, nothing stuck.”

“And that’s one of our human clients,” Wesley drawled.  “Can’t imagine what the demon ones are like.”

“Looks like the trial’s not going too well this time,” Gunn read further.

“Hm, first good news I’ve heard all day,” Angel commented.

Gunn closed the file, looking at the table.  “I can’t even remember which pile is which.”

Angel shrugged nonchalantly.  “I’ll get my secretary to go through it in the morning.”  Then he thought about his statement.  “Do I _have_ a secretary?”

“I imagine they’ll find you someone who can stomach the idea of working for the side of the righteous,” Wesley quipped.

“My impression is a lot of these guys are just opportunistic.  They’ll go with the flow,” Gunn postulated.

“You _do_ know we’re going to have to check the whole staff, make sure we don’t have any die-hard evildoers plotting against us,” Fred pointed out.

Wesley sat back in his chair with a groan.  “And here I was, worrying about the clients.”

“We’re doing the right thing – right?” Angel asked for affirmation from the others.

“Well, uh –.” Lorne sat forward then rose.  “We’re doing it tomorrow, exalted one.  My horns are falling asleep.”

“Yeah,” Angel agreed.  “You guys get some rest.”

“What about you?” Fred asked.

“I’ll work a while yet.  Go on,” Angel told her, grabbing another folder and sitting back in his chair.

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Gunn’s Office, Night_  
**  


Gunn walked back to his office, intending to grab his jacket before heading home.  Someone spoke to him from a dark corner.

“It was a lot simpler fighting vamps on the street, wasn’t it?  Tricked-out pickup, loyal gang, just you and the pointy wood against the living dead,” Eve remarked.

Gunn watched her walk into the light from the hallway.  “Is this going to be a thing with you:  jumping out at people, or do you just not have an office of your own?”

“I’m just wondering if you’re ready for the next step,” Eve said.

“Or if maybe I’d like to go back to living on the street, eating garbage and watching my buddies get picked off one by one?” Gunn nodded sarcastically.  “Yeah, that was the life.”

Eve came closer.  “So you’re not backing out?”

“You don’t know me, or you wouldn’t ask that question.”

“I can see why the Senior Partners chose you.” She handed him a business card.  “Have fun.”  She walked out of the room, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “You’ll feel like new man.”

Gunn read the card as he strolled over to his doorway then leaned there.

Wesley was leaned against his own doorway, watching Eve sashay out of the building.  “What did she mean?”

Gunn held the card between his index and middle fingers.  “Tailor.  Guess I’m not dressed for success.”  He shrugged.

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, the next morning_  
**  


Angel sifted through the papers on his desk, picking up the envelope that was mailed to him, but tossing it aside without opening it.  Instead, he pressed a button on his phone.

“Um, can I get a cup of coffee or something?” he spoke to the phone.

“ _You have reached ritual sacrifice.  For goats, press one, or say ‘goats’_ ,” the automated voice said.

Angel hastily pressed the button to end the call, trying a different button.  “Hello?”

“ _This is Angel’s office.  How can I help you_?” a woman’s screechy voice said in greeting.

“This is _AngelNo, this is his new assistant_ ,” she said perkily.

“No, _this_ is Angel,” he insisted.

“ _Are you sure_?” she asked suspiciously.

Angel scoffed and spoke more to himself than to her, “Less and less.  Look, can I get a cup of coffee?  Or if there’s blood –”

“ _Oh_!” the woman exclaimed, finally catching on.  “ _Right away_.”

Angel pressed a button to end the call, but he was switched to the previous call.  “ _To sacrifice loved ones, or a pet, press the pound –_ ”

Angel hastily pressed the button to hang up, holding it down longer this time, until he heard the dial tone.  He stared at the phone, disgusted for a moment, then went back to his papers.  The phone rang and he answered it via speaker phone.

“Hello?” Angel said uncertainly, in case it was the demonic tele-tree again.

“ _It’s Wesley.  Can I stop in?  We might be into a situation_?” Wesley said.

Angel’s assistant brought him a mug, placing it on his desk in front of him.  “Uh, sure.  Come on by.”  He sipped from the mug and then looked up as his secretary.  “Harmony?”

Harmony smiled, greeting him cheerily, “Hey, boss.”

“You’re my secretary?” Angel asked in disbelief.

Harmony sighed indignantly.  “Hello!  _Assistant_.”

“Explain why I shouldn’t kill you,” Angel asked with a hard tone.

“Secretary’s fine,” Harmony quickly corrected.

Angel put down his mug, rising and slowly stalking her around his desk.  “No, it’s not fine.  Where is it _fine_?  You’ve been working here?”

“Yeah-huh,” Harmony gulped, backing away from him.

“Why?” he asked.

Harmony scoffed.  “Well, _duh_!  I’m a single, undead gal trying to make it in the big city.  I have to start somewhere.  And they’re evil here, they don’t judge.  They’ve also got the necro-tempered glass.”  She danced in front of the window.  “No burning up.  And a great medical plan, and who needs dental more than us?”

“This is surreal,” Angel groaned, massaging his forehead.

“Now, before you go threatening to fire me –” Harmony began.

“I threatened to kill you,” Angel corrected.

Harmony backed up slowly at his glare.  “Don’t let’s quibble.  Before anything, just think – I’m strong, I’m quick, I’m incredibly sycophantic – if that means what that guy said – and I type like a superhero – if there was a superhero whose power was typing.  And, hey, we keep the same hours.  Creatures of the night –” she held her fist up in a show of solidarity.  “Unite!”  She shrugged, handing him the mug again.  “How do you like your blood?”

“Tell me that’s not –” Angel cringed at the thought of it being human blood and the idea that the law firm has a tele-tree option to sacrifice loved ones and pets.

“It’s pig’s blood,” Harmony assured him.  “I’m totally off the human blood.  That’s not even a thing.”

Angel smelled the liquid.  “It tastes –”

“Pretty good, right?” Harmony finished for him.  “The extra ingredient is otter.”

Wesley chose that moment to knock once, open the door, and let himself in.  “Angel, it’s one of our cases.  It’s becoming problematic.”  He was momentarily brought up short at the sight of Harmony, before giving her a nod in greeting.  “Harmony.”

“Hey, Wes.”

“You knew she was –” Angel sighed, shaking his head.

Harmony smiled at Wesley.  “He’s the one that picked me out of the steno pool.”

“But why – you, uh,” Angel sighed again.

“Well, I thought a familiar face would be just the thing in a place like this,” Wesley defended his choice of assistants.

Angel looked between Wesley and Harmony.  “You turned evil a lot faster than I thought you would.”

“Nonsense,” Wesley countered.

“We’re going to get along great, boss,” Harmony assured Angel.  “The whole gang.  I mean, Cordy is going to lose it when she finds out –”  She noticed that Wesley and Angel were frowning and refusing to look at each other.  “I mean – you are going to tell her you’re okay with this, right?  I mean, I know she was mad at me for trying to kill you all, but she wouldn’t – I mean –”

“I thought she knew,” Wesley said apologetically.

“Cordy’s sick.  She’s in a coma,” Angel told her.

Harmony covered her mouth in shock.  “Oh, God.  I—I didn’t – What happened?  Is she going to be okay?”

“We don’t know,” Angel replied.  It was the only sure thing he knew right now.

Harmony sniffled, close to tears.  “Cordy was my best friend, like – my whole life.  She’s my role model.  How can she –” She sighed sadly then suddenly became chipper again.  “So, anyway, I really think you should not fire me, and Wes does too.”

To change the topic, Wesley said, “Harmony, would you ask the men in my office to join us, please?”

“Righty-oh,” Harmony chirped, nodding and leaving the room.

“If there’s a way to help Cordelia, we will find it,” Wesley assured Angel.

Angel nodded, moving on to more pressing matters.  “What’s the case?”

Wesley handed a folder over to him.  “Corbin Fries.  The lowest piece of pond scum I’ve met in, oh, hours.  He’s about to get twenty years for kidnapping, pimping –”

“I saw the file,” Angel interrupted, handing the folder back to Wesley.

“Yeah, well, personally, I think he deserves to be eaten by weasels, but he’s hinting we’d better help him,” Wesley filled in the missing pieces.  “Threatening actually.”

The door opened, and Harmony escorted a couple of men into the office.

“Mr. Fries,” Angel greeted.

“Mr. Fries, this is Angel,” Harmony introduced.

“I’ve been bringing him up to speed on your case,” Wesley informed his client as he gestured for them all to sit on the couch at the other side of the office.

“Terrific,” Corbin Fries said flatly.

A lawyer introduced himself.  “Desmond Keel.”

“He’s one of ours,” Wesley added for Angel's benefit.

“Nice to meet you,” Angel replied, with blatant insincerity.

“I’ve heard, uh, things,” Desmond stammered.

“Would anybody like coffee?” Harmony cordially inquired.

“Oh yeah,” Corbin Fries threw his hands in the air as he sat down.  “Let’s all chit-chat and have tea and crumpets because I got so much time.  Here’s the skinny:  Tomorrow the D.A. puts my tit in a wringer for good and all, and that – does _not_ stand with me.  Butt-munch here, he got his law degree at dog training school.”  That caused Harmony to giggle, but she sobered at a sharp look from Angel.  Corbin Fries continued, “And the prosecution has everything they’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Because you’re guilty,” Angel blandly stated the obvious.

“Of course I’m guilty.  What the hell are you changing the subject for?” Corbin asked incredulously.  “The point is:  when Holland Manners was running things, this would’ve never got to trial.  Now, I bring a lot of money into this firm, more than most, and I don’t do that so that I can be handed over to the fucking law.”  He jabbed a finger at Angel.  “You got to get me off.”

Angel gave him a considering look.  “It’s strange, my lack of incentive.”

“Do you think I give a rat’s ass about your new regime here?” Corbin Fries spat.  At Angel’s raised eyebrow, he said, “Yeah, I know who you are, and I care to the sum of zero.  You’re my lawyers.  And if you don’t do every last thing to keep me out of jail, you will regret it.”

His lawyer, Desmond Keel took over from there, sounding more pragmatic.  “We can’t dance around this one.  We’re not in a position to have anyone killed.”  Angel and Wesley glanced at him, and he rushed to assure them, “Not that we would.  And the jury’s, uh, tamper-proof.  Literally, I think one of the D.A.’s shamans have conjured a mystical shield around them.”

“So this one has to be won on the merits of the case,” Wesley concluded.

“Now, we have top men on this –” Desmond Keel started to say.

“Who are doing jack!” Corbin Fries cut him off.  “I am _not_ going to be made an example of.  Either you get me off tomorrow –”

“I think you should calm down,” Angel commanded.

Corbin Fries jumped to his feet, getting into Angel’s face.  “To hell with calm down.  Either you get me off, or I drop the bomb!”

That got Wesley’s attention.  “Bomb?”

“Let me put it this way; if they bring in a conviction, bye-bye California,” Corbin Fries mimicked a goodbye wave.  “I say the magic word, the only people left standing are going to be the ones that already dead.”

Harmony heaved a sigh.  “Well, that’s a relief.”  Wesley and Angel looked at her and she stuttered, “I mean –” she pretended anger, pointing at the criminal.  “Hey!”

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Conference Room_  
**  


Lorne opened a notebook, addressing a room full of employees.  “Okay, well, we all know why we’re here.  So, why don’t we get started?”

He looked at the first name on the list.  The rows next to the names were titled:   OKAY, ON THE BUBBLE, EVIL, TO BE FIRED, and YIKES!

“Uh – Cindy,” Lorne double-checked the name.  “Rabinowitz?”

Cindy stepped up, beginning to sing off-key, “ _There once was a woman who loved a man / He was the one that she took poison for / They say that nobody ever loved as much as she / But me, I love you more_.”

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office_  
**  


Knox was helping Fred move into her office.  She hung a poster of the Dixie Chicks on her wall while Knox played with her toy duck.

“So – he can read minds?” Knox asked with casual curiosity.

“While you’re singing, he can sort of _feel out_ your aura, your future.  It should help us weed out the, you know, most evilest, which I’m sure you’re not,” Fred smiled supportively.

“Hey, I’ll go up there right now, warble away,” Knox offered.  “I want you feeling one-hundred percent secure, running this lab.”

“Yeah, that’ll never happen in this lifetime,” Fred observed, tacking one corner of the poster to the wall.  “Uh, evil aside, I’m not sure that I’m much of the running-things type.  I’m more the running-away-from-things type.”  She tacked the other corner of the poster to the wall.

The telephone buzzed, Fred answering it as Knox said, “Why do I have trouble believing that?”

“Maybe you’re not very bright,” Fred teased, then greeted the caller, “Hi, this is Fred.  I mean, Practical Science Department, this is the Head – Fred.”  She sighed in embarrassment.  “How may I help you?”


	2. Chapter 68-B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline - (Angel: The Series, Season 5)  
> Summary – Angel and the team are stunned when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart give them control of the L.A. office. The gang quickly moves in, and although everyone is delighted at the amazing resources they now have at their command, they can’t stop wondering what the catch is. But the biggest mystery of all revolves around a small package Angel receives containing an amulet and a handful of dust—which coalesces into a very-much-alive Spike. Angel(us)/Spike; Buffy. Rated NC-17

##  _Chapter 68:  Step 5 – Acceptance (Part 1)_

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office_  
**

Fred and Lorne joined Angel and Wesley to discuss the latest problem at the evil law firm.

“Blow everybody up?” Fred repeated what Wesley reiterated to her.

“Well, he said ‘drop the bomb’,” Angel clarified.  “We don’t know what that means.”

“We very nearly found out,” Wesley stated.

“What?  I’m not allowed to hit people now?” Angel asked petulantly.

“Not people capable of genocide,” Wesley replied.

“Those are exactly the types of people I should be allowed to hit!” Angel retorted defensively.

“Hey, back to the here and now,” Lorne interrupted their little squabble.  “Where do we stand?”

“We need to find out about this bomb, and somehow disable it, in case that jury comes in with a conviction,” Wesley said decisively, and Angel nodded in agreement.  “We think it may have some mystical element.”

“Fries said, ‘I say the magic word,’” Angel mused thoughtfully.  “He could mean exactly that.”

“Which is my department,” Wesley said.  “We also think it probably isn’t an explosive.  This isn’t the sort of man to risk his own life.  So that could mean more magic –”

“Or it could be a virus, Ebola kind of thing,” Fred suggested.

“Right,” Angel agreed.  “The main thing is:  any of this stuff could’ve come from right here.  Keel, the lawyer, says he doesn’t know anything, and I believe him.”

“Why?” Fred asked, surprised that Angel agreed with anything.

“Because he’s terrified,” Angel replied.

Lorne nodded.  “It’s going around.”

“Fred, go through the lab records,” Wesley instructed.  “See if Wolfram & Hart deals in viruses.  Lorne, you’re in the courtroom.  Monitor the case.  Let us know how it’s going.”

“But lunch with Mary-Kate,” Lorne whined.  “She was going to tell me about Ashley’s new piercing.”

Harmony walked into the office.  “I paged Gunn three times.  Still nothing.”

“Why isn’t he here?” Fred asked.

“Why is _she_?” Lorne nearly screeched.

“Long story,” Harmony replied.

“Maybe not,” Angel cut her off before she could relay the morning’s events to Lorne that _didn’t_ pertain to the case at hand.

“Oh, and I got Spanky’s address,” Harmony informed Angel, handing him a memo.

“Spanky?” Lorne raised an eyebrow.

“Freelance mystic,” Angel replied.  “He’s showed up in Fries’ files a few times.  I’m going to do some legwork.”

“Can you get there by sewer?” Fred asked.

“Not this time,” Angel replied, heading for his private elevator.

***************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Garage, Day_  
**

The elevator arrival bell dinged, the doors opened, and Angel stepped out into the dark basement garage.  It was filled with classic sports cars from every decade.

Angel couldn't decide which to choose.  “Oh, God, they’re all so beautiful!”  After playing a mental game of eenie-meanie-miney-mo, he chose a yellow, 1970s era car, opening the driver's side door.

A man dressed in tactical gear, carrying a gun, stepped out in front of the car.  “Sir?”

“Hauser, right?” Angel inquired.

“We got word there’s a floater you wanted brought in,” Hauser said.

Angel shut the door to the car, approaching Hauser.  “How, exactly, did you get that word?”

“That’s my job, sir,” Hauser stated.  “Do you want us to bring him in?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Angel told him.

“Traditionally, my unit handles all the wet work,” Hauser told him proudly.

“I _know_ you meant field work,” Angel clarified.

“Of course,” Hauser smirked.

“Mm-hmm.  I’ll take care of it,” Angel said, walking back to his car.  “Later on, you can tell me all about tradition.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Spanky’s Apartment, Day_  
**

Angel knocked on a nondescript apartment door and a middle-aged man wearing a sweaty tank top and holding a daiquiri, opened it from the other side.

“What do you want?” Spanky asked gruffly.

“I’m here from Wolfram & Hart, about a job,” Angel replied cryptically.

“Well then,” Spanky stepped aside.  “Get your butt in here.  Pardon the sweat.  I was working out.  Uh, do you want a drink?  I got a pitcher of daiquiris.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Angel declined the offer.

“So am I,” Spanky gloated.  “And I’m about to be better.”

Angel walked casually around the apartment, stopping in front of one wall that was covered, top to bottom, with a wide variety of paddles and whips.  “Hmm.  So tell me,” Angel said, “Why do they call you _Spanky_?”

“I’m a big **_Our Gang_** fan,” Spanky replied, sipping his daiquiri.

Angel glanced over at him.  “That’s what I figured.”

“Look, buddy, I’m going to be up front with you.  I got nothing against people doing their thing.  It’s a wide and wonderful world, but I don’t spank men.  It’s not a judgment.  Men have fine, firm asses.  You’ve been to the website, you know much I work on mine.”  He showed off his physique.  “But when you said Wolfram & Hart, I assumed you were here for a mystical job,” Spanky sipped his daiquiri again.

“I am.  I want to know about the one you did for Corbin Fries,” Angel explained.

“Yeah?” Spanky put down his drink.  “I don’t discuss my old jobs.  Mystic-client privilege.”

“You _are_ going to tell me what you did for Mr. Fries.  Now – or very soon from now,” Angel guaranteed.

“I built him a container, a mystical vessel.  You can put anything you want in it,” Spanky offered.

“Like a bomb?” Angel suggested.

“A bomb, a curse, a golden retriever, anything,” Spanky shrugged.  “I don’t know what he wanted it for.  The vessel holds it until the magical word dissolves the vessel.”

“Okay, then where’d you place the vessel?” Angel asked.

Spanky lunged around behind Angel, putting his muscular arm around Angel’s neck and squeezing.

“Do you know what I’m doing now?” Spanky asked rhetorically.

“I’m applying pressure to your windpipe.  You’ll pass out, and then I’ll let Mr. Fries decide if he wants you to wake up again.”

“Do you know what I’m doing now?  _Not_ using my windpipe,” Angel informed him, grabbing Spanky’s forearm and twisting it around until he had the upper hand.

“Vampire,” Spanky growled.

“Capital ‘V’.  And there’s something else you should know about me,” Angel said, pushing Spanky forward while still maintaining his hold on the mystic's twisted arm.  He grabbed a cricket paddle off the wall with his free hand, swinging it powerfully at Spanky, with enough force to launch the large man across the room.  “I have _no_ problem spanking men,” he informed Spanky, slapping the paddle on the open palm of his hand, smirking.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Subsidized Medical Clinic_  
**

Gunn sat impatiently in what might have been the world's worst decorated waiting room, magazine in hand.  Finally, a man in a high-necked white doctor’s outfit stepped into the room, carrying a file.

“Charles – Gunn?” the doctor asked, reading the file.

Gunn pointedly ignored him, pretending to be enthralled by the magazine.  “Hold on a sec', this is deep stuff.  Looks like Demi might be breaking up with Emilio.”

“I’m afraid the magazines are a little out of date,” the doctor apologized.

“Then you shouldn’t keep people waiting for five hours,” Gunn snapped.  He put the magazine on the table, standing.

“Not nervous are you?” the doctor asked, leading Gunn into the inner office.

“No.  Definitely past nervous here,” Gunn shivered at the sterile room and mechanical gadgets.

“So, I understand you were in the white room,” the doctor said conversationally.  “Spoke to the Conduit himself.”

“That’s between me and the big cat,” Gunn replied defensively.  “Are we going to do this thing, or what?”

“By all means,” the doctor gestured to him, and the chair.  “Please, remove your shirt.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Day_  
**

Fred and Knox sat on the floor of Fred's office, going through papers that were strewn all over the room.

“Oh, okay, this could be bad,” Knox said, reading a file.

“Bad what?  How?  Where?” Fred asked rapidly, his voice reviving her from the muzzy reverie her overtired brain had fallen into.

“We did some work with Fries on illegal pesticides, rodent killers,” Knox said, getting to his feet.  “But this guy, Lopez –” he went to Fred’s computer, staring to type quickly.

Fred stood up, stretching the kinks out of her body before picking up the file and scanning it.  “The lab technician?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know him,” Knox replied distractedly, reading the words on the screen.  “Oh, okay.  That’s why.  He was fired.”  He double-checked the words and corrected, “Oh, no, sorry.  He was _set on fire_.”

“That’s interesting,” Fred yawned a little.  “For working with Fries?”

“Maybe that was under the table,” Knox continued reading the file on the screen.  “There’s a link to his name.  Looks to be a cult.”

Fred read the screen over Knox’s shoulder.  “ _The Black Tomorrow_.  Oh, thrills.”

“I think you were right, Boss.  These guys specialize in quick-fire disease scenarios; Sarin Gases, and virus.”

This made Fred more sick than she'd ever been, since the team had agreed to work for the firm.  She backed away from Knox as if he masterminded the day's events.  “Which _you_ built.”

“Hey, no,” Knox was quick to say, noticing her backing away from him.  “We’ve contained more plagues than we’ve ever designed.”  He shrugged, giving her a weak smile.  “I’m not all about destruction, here.”

Fred stammered, trying to think of what to do next.  “We have to find out what he had access –” She jumped when the phone buzzed, then rushed to answer it.  “Department of – Fred – Angel, yeah.  It looks like our client might be playing with a virus.  Spread by touch or maybe even airborne.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Spanky’s Apartment, Day_  
**

Angel was still in the mystic’s apartment, with Spanky's prone body lying, unconscious, at his feet.

“That’s the bomb,” Angel stated.

“ _Safe guess.  So did you find out where he put it?_ ” Fred asked.  When he didn’t reply, she prompted, “ _Angel?_ ”

“Yeah.  I found out where he put it,” Angel growled, low in his throat.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Elementary Classroom, Day_  
**

A boy was talking surreptitiously to the girl seated at the desk behind him, when the teacher caught him.

“Matthew Fries!  Do you want to spend the rest of this class in the corner?” the teacher warned.

Matthew turned around in the correct direction, facing the blackboard.  “No, ma’am.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Subsidized Medical Clinic_  
**

Electro-tubes were attached to Gunn’s head via a contraption that resembled a computer from the 1950s.  Gunn grunted and gasped throughout the process.  The doctor lowered the revolutions, handing Gunn a drink, which he gulped too fast, nearly choking.

“Uh-uh-uh!  Slowly, slowly,” the doctor cautioned.  Gunn drew back when he was done, and the doctor asked, “Do you want to stop?”

“Are we finished?” Gunn panted.

“Not quite yet,” the doctor said.

“Then shut up and do it,” Gunn snapped.

The doctor raised the revolutions on the machine, continuing with the process.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Night_  
**

Together, Fred and Wesley walked through the lobby, on their way to Angel’s office.

“Did you get anything, Fred?” Wesley inquired.

“I’m not sure.  We’ve isolated a few strains which Fries may have had access to,” Fred replied.

“Any antidote?” Wesley asked.

“Nothing,” Fred shook her head.  “The antidote probably died with the tech guy that made the virus.”

“Fries must be immune,” Wesley surmised.  “There has to be –”

“And we’re not even sure which strain it is,” Fred cut him off.  “I’m trying, Wesley.”

“I’m not doing much better,” Wesley announced sadly.  “I can’t disable the trigger if I don’t know the magic word.  Short of killing Fries, I –”

“That could trigger it, too,” Fred proposed.

“I know,” Wesley sighed.  “Back to our retrospective grindstones, I guess.”

Fred stopped, glancing at the closed double doors to Angel’s office.  “Is he going to be all right?”

“He does seem to be taking it personally,” Wesley noted.

“He _has_ been a lot more focused since Spike died in the Hellmouth,” Fred considered, looking around the lobby.  “Or it could be this place.  It gets to you.”

Wesley nodded in agreement, returning to his office as Fred pivoted on a heel, going back to her lab.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Night_  
**

He didn't know how she managed the trick, but Eve always managed to materialize out of seemingly nowhere.  Angel ignored her as he stood beside his desk, trying to determine if he'd missed anything.

“Rough day at work?” Eve asked, her voice reminding him of nails on a chalkboard.

“His son,” Angel said.  “He took a lethal virus and he stuck it inside his son.”

“Hits you where you live, doesn’t it?” Eve remarked, an obvious note of mockery in her voice.  Angel stood up straight, glaring at her.  “Of course, I know.  You sired Spike.  Raised him.  Made him what he was and then lost him.”

“It was Spike’s choice.  Not mine,” Angel told her, between gritted teeth.

“And isn’t that what pisses you off most?  That he made a choice you couldn’t,” Eve asked.

“You know _nothing_ about me or Spike,” Angel snapped.

“Fine,” Eve said letting the topic of Spike drop.  “I’m curious as to how you’re going to play this.”

“Well, I’ll isolate the boy, if it comes to that.  Stop it – from spreading,” Angel said.

“Here’s the news from this sector:  if every case hits you this hard, you’re not going to last a week,” Eve unnecessarily pointed out.

“And, I don’t want you coming into my office again unless I ask for you.  I don’t want to hear another word, right now, unless you decide to start helping out,” Angel directed.

“How do you know I’m not?” Eve asked coyly, on her way out through the door.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Science Department, Night_  
**

The table was full of eight-by-ten glossy photos of victims of deadly Ebola-like germs and diseases.  Interspersed among the photos were Chinese food boxes, sauces, and chopsticks.  At one end of the table, Knox was looking through a microscope when Fred walked up to him.

“Yeah, I’d say we’re looking at a retrovirus.  Spread by touch.  Some derivation of the Phonaya strain,” Knox updated her.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“A couple of more tests should confirm it,” Knox said.

“Are you running them?” she pressed.

“I’ll get someone on it,” Knox said tiredly.

Fred huffed in anger.  “Don’t get someone on it, _have someone on it_.  Did we build this thing?  Do we have an antidote?  Do – _do we have an antidote department?_ ” Fred turned, addressing the entire department.  “Y’all are tired, I know.  I just want you to understand that in a few hours, a virus is going to start spreading in this city that’ll kill every person in it, and when blood starts streaming out of our noses, eye sockets, and fingernails, I’ll have the intense satisfaction of knowing that I’m dying with the only people in the world that actually deserve it!  Now focus, people!”  She stomped up the stairs, to her office.  “Work the damn problem!”  With that, she slammed the door to her office.

“You’re the boss,” Knox commented, refocusing on his microscope.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Courtroom, Day_  
**

The courtroom was packed with onlookers as Fries’ trial came to a close.  Lorne was dressed in impeccable Dick Tracy fashion; complete with hat, gloves, and sunglasses, as he sought to blend in with the audience.

“You Honor,” Desmond Keel said, rising to address the judge.  “The defense objects to this entire line of questioning.”

“Yes, of course, the defense _always_ objects,” the judge groaned.  This case was giving her a headache.  “The defense always objects.  “I’m curious, Mr. Keel, is it just the sound of people talking that offends you?”

The courtroom filled with laughter.

“We still feel that this line of –” Keel was saying as Lorne slipped out of the courtroom, into the hallway.

Lorne took out his cell phone, punching in Angel’s number.  “Angel toes.  Lorne.  Hey, listen, I’m going to go ahead and recommend we get that boy into isolation, pronto.”

“How long do we have?” Angel asked.

“The defense is drawing it out, but the judge is making merry sport of them, and, well, now the jury’s looking at Fries like he’s O. J. – without the commanding performance in **_Towering Inferno_**.”

“Do you think he’s going to say the word?” Angel asked.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, a Nondescript Black Van Parked Between Angel and Lorne’s Locations_  
**

Hauser and his team of agents were gathered in a stereotypical surveillance van, listening to Angel and Lorne’s phone conversation.

 _”Before they even deliver the verdict,”_ Lorne stressed.  _”He’s dead meat, and he knows it.  I think Fries, Junior, is about to become Patient Zero.”_

 _”All right.  Thanks.  Uh, I’ll get to the school.  Stay in there,”_ Angel told him, ending the call.

“Okay, let’s show the new boss how a threat is contained,” Hauser instructed.

“Terminate the kid?” an agent asked.

“This is a level one, possible contagion.  We take out the kid, the class, anyone within fifty yards.  A clean sweep, people.  No survivors, no witnesses.”

The black van sped off as the agents inside readied their weapons, preparing for the task ahead of them.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s office, Day_  
**

Angel rifled through papers on his desk as Wesley walked in to give him an update on their progress.

“Fred’s got the lab techs on track for an antidote, but it could be days.  Same with removing the mystical container, I’m afraid.  If we could get them to suspend the trial –”

“Not going to happen, Wes,” Angel interrupted, grabbing his trench coat and striding toward his private elevator.  “I got to get to the school.”

“Uh, boss?” Harmony interrupted, following Wesley into the room.

“It can wait,” Angel dismissed her.

“Maybe not,” Harmony cringed at the news she had to relay to him.

“Go to the courthouse,” Angel instructed Wesley.  “Plan C.  I’ll let you know when I’ve isolated the boy.”

“The special ops team already left for the school,” Harmony blurted out.

Angel stopped in his tracks, turning to her.  “What?”

Harmony nodded.  “They left, and they called for the cleaners to meet there.  I have it from some of the girls ‘cleaners’ means a big job.  Lots of bodies.”

“How long ago?” Angel demanded.

“Ten minutes,” Harmony replied.

“You’ll never beat them on the street,” Wesley commented.

“Well, I got to try,” Angel insisted.

“Um, boss?” Harmony inserted, watching Angel punching the call button repeatedly, trying to hurry the elevator doors to open.

“What?!” Angel and Wesley yelled in unison.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Courtroom, Day_  
**

Wesley walked into the courtroom, sitting beside Lorne in the very back row.

“How’s it going?” Wesley asked in a hushed whisper.  Fries turned around, staring them down.  Before Lorne tell him anything, Wesley said, “Never mind.”

“—Calling witness after witness, each less credible than the one before,” the D.A. was saying.

“Yeah, so, what’s the plan?” Lorne whispered back.  “You _do_ have a plan?”  Wesley sighed, opening his coat and giving Lorne a glimpse inside.  “Oh, and here I thought we were desperate.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Elementary Classroom, Day_  
**

The black van filled with agents pulled up to the school, the entire team pouring out, into the parking lot.  They gathered in the hallway outside the classroom, putting on their gas masks.  They kicked open the door, tossing a gas canister inside.  They all dashed inside – and when the smoke cleared, the only person in the room was Angel, sitting at the desk assigned to Fries’ son.

“So, it turns out, with this new deal and all, I own a helicopter,” Angel smirked.

“Where’s the boy?” Hauser demanded.

“You just missed everybody,” Angel told him, waving smoke out of his face.  “Oh, I probably don’t want to be breathing that.”

“Kid’s still a threat,” Hauser stated.  “Which means you have him isolated, probably nearby.”

“I can see why they made _you_ the leader,” Angel baited.  “Do I _even_ have to start with how fired you all are?”

Hauser chuckled, removing his mask.  “That not how it works.”

“Oh, right!  Tradition,” Angel reminded himself.  “Why don’t you show me how that’s done?”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hauser, quickly snapping an order, “Take him out!”

Agents opened machine-gun fire on Angel, who moved swiftly, diving for cover behind the teacher’s desk.  After the hail of bullets stopped, an agent ventured forward to investigate the condition of their new boss.  Suddenly, Angel – in full vampire visage – jumped up, overpowering that agent, then disarming another.  The agents started firing again as he leaped over several desks, to the opposite side of the room.  An agent began opening a bottle of holy water, but while in flight, Angel kicked the container out of the agent’s hand then used the wall to propel himself into the air, delivering a spinning kick to the agent’s face.  Then he lunged for yet another agent, pushing him out the door.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Courtroom, Day_  
**

Wesley and Lorne sat nervously in the back row, watching the proceedings.

“If there are no more objections,” the Judge looked pointedly at Desmond Keel.  “I’ll hear final summations.”

The doors to the courtroom opened, and Gunn, rocking a pin-striped suit with a silk tie, briefcase in hand, sauntered confidently into the main aisle.  “You Honor, the defense requests one more minute to confer.”

“Another defense lawyer,” the Judge sighed.  “What a joy.”

Gunn leaned over, whispering something in Desmond’s ear that made the attorney bolt up.  “Your Honor, at this point, I’d like to cede the floor to my colleague, Charles Gunn.”

“So noted,” the Judge said, gesturing that Gunn should proceed.

“Thank you.  Your Honor, the defense moves for a mistrial,” Gunn said, stepping in front of the defense table.

The Judge stared blankly at Gunn while the entire courtroom dissolved into a surprised murmur.  “You are, of course, joking.”

“Your Honor, that's the second prejudicial remark you’ve made against the defense since I entered the room,” Gunn pointed out.

“What are your grounds for a mistrial?” the Judge asked, annoyed.

“You are, your Honor.  I’m asking that you recuse yourself from this trial.”

“The thin ice you are on is over very deep water,” the Judge warned.

“No judge shall be appointed to try any case concerning a business colleague or employee,” Gunn recited.  He picked up a file.  “Permission to approach the bench?”  Gunn stepped up to the bench, handing over the file.

“These are –?” the Judge inquired, opening the folder and perusing the information.  “What are you doing with my tax records?”

“You’ll see that the highlighted portions indicate stock in Oriental Bay Exports, which is owned by Loros, Incorporated, which in turn is owned by a consortium that includes the defendant, Corbin Fries.”

“I have brokers who do my –” the Judge started to insist.  “You submit that I could possibly have known about this connection?”

“I found out, and I’ve been on the case –” Gunn made a show of looking at his watch.  “Six hours.”

“The ice is melting, counselor,” the Judge warned.

“The defense submits that it as learned how to swim.”  Gunn glanced at the jury, who were laughing.  “I withdraw that statement, with apologies.”  He walked back to the defense table, picking up a thick law book.  “ _McCracken v. State of Maine, 1954_ :  Any financial dealings shall be deemed the responsibility of the interested party, regardless of number or function of employees unless said party has been judged mentally incapable.”  He placed the book back on the table.  “Permission to approach?” the Judge nodded and he proceeded.  “And furthermore, the strain on my client’s several businesses has forced Oriental Bay Exports to shrink its holdings of late.  If Mr. Fries is convicted, the interest your Honor has in it would represent a controlling interest.  I would prefer _not_ to present the rest of our findings in front of the jury.”

“I’ll see counsel in my chambers,” the Judge said stiffly, standing.  “Right now.”

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Elementary Hallway, Day_  
**

Angel slipped back into his human visage, continuing to battle the agents.  Finally, Hauser pointed a shotgun at Angel.

“You know that won’t kill me,” Angel stated.

“But it’ll hurt.  That part’s fun,” Hauser countered.

“Agent Hauser, I’m honestly beginning to suspect that you’re not part of the solution,” Angel posited.

“Do you really think _you_ can solve the problem?” Hauser spat.  “Come in to Wolfram  & Hart and make everything right?  Turn night into glorious day?  You pathetic little fairy.”

Angel took exception to that remark.  “I’m not little.”

“That’s exactly what you are.  You’re minuscule.  A dust mote on the shelf of the great institution.  Now, you think I’m just a trigger-happy jerk who follows orders, but I am something you will never be.  I’m pure.  I believe in evil.  You and your friends, you’re conflicted.  You’re confused.  We’re not.  That is why you are going to lose, because we possess the most powerful thing in the world:  _conviction_.”

“There _is_ one thing more powerful than conviction.  Just one.  Mercy,” Angel told him, suddenly kicking Hauser in the chest, forcing the shotgun to angle back at Hauser’s head.  A gunshot rang out.  Hauser and his weapon fell to the floor, a blood splatter covering the wall where Hauser’s head used to be.

“What happened to mercy?” An agent asked, shocked by the turn of events.

“You saw the last of it,” Angel snapped, walking away.

**************************

**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Day_  
**

Harmony walked into Angel's office carrying a bottle of water for Eve, chatting animatedly with Angel and his team.

“It’s very simple.  Thank you,” Eve said to Harmony.  Harmony left the room and Eve addressed the group.  “Charles agreed to let us enhance his mind with a comprehensive knowledge of the law.”

Gunn used a cutter to snip off the tip of a cigar, obviously pleased with himself.

“Without asking us?” Wesley asked.

“Mother, may I?” Gunn mocked.

“Without telling us?” Fred was clearly as upset as was Wesley.

“Because I knew you guys would freak.  Look, it’s me here.  They didn’t evil me up,” Gunn said.  “All I got stuck in my head was the law.  And for some reason a mess-load of **_Gilbert and Sullivan_**.”

“That’s standard,” Eve dismissed casually.  “Great for elocution.”

“How can you possibly know they didn’t do anything else?” Angel asked skeptically.

“Because I saw the man in the white room.  He does a lot of scary things, but lying ain’t one of them.”

“You needed a lawyer to get by here,” Eve declared.  “Charles had the most unused potential.  His degrees are all forged, but he’s the real deal.”

“Do you want me to sing for Lorne?” Gunn offered.  “I could give him a little **_Pirates of Penzance_**.  All of it, actually.”

“I would also point out that he _did_ just save the day, without even resorting to violence.”  Eve eyed Angel knowingly.  “How’d you do?”  Eve smiled.  “I think you guys are going to make it work.  Yay, team!”  With that, Eve left the room.

“Of course, saving the day meant getting the scumbag, who was ready to sacrifice his own son, off on a technicality, and then returning said son to said scumbag,” Lorne pointed out.

“Fred and I had enough time to disable the charm now,” Wesley announced.  “He won’t be in danger.”

“And Fries is going to have to dial down the criminal activities until this thing comes to trial again,” Gunn said, simulating smoking his cigar.  “Which I can draw out for months.”

“Is this going to be our lives now?” Fred asked.  “Fighting our own employees, our own clients?  Are we really going to do any good?”

Angel rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Yes, we are.  We’re going to change things.  We came to Wolfram & Hart because it’s a powerful weapon, and we’ll figure out how to wield it.”

“Or we’ll kill ourselves with it,” Wesley added.

“Yay, team,” Fred reiterated flatly.

“Sooner or later they’ll tip their hand, and we’ll find out why they _really_ brought us here,” Angel told them, picking up an envelope.  “Meanwhile, we do the work – our way, one thing at a time.”  He ripped open the envelope.  “We deal –” An amulet fell out of the envelope, hitting the floor.  “With whatever comes next.”

The second it hit the floor, the amulet activated.  A black whirlwind erupted from it, causing the papers on Angel’s desk to stir.  The ashen whirlwind began glowing with livid, burning flecks of orange as something began materializing.  A male skeletal form emerged, gradually filling out until there was a human form.  The whirlwind faded, revealing Spike standing there, screaming and grunting, in the middle of the office, where the amulet lay on the floor.

“Aah!” Spike screamed, doubling over in pain, panting and looking around wildly at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Spike?” Wesley said softly.

“ _Spike_ ,” Angel parroted in awe.


	3. Chapter 69-A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline - (Angel: The Series, Season 5)  
> Summary – Angel and the team are stunned when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart give them control of the L.A. office. The gang quickly moves in, and although everyone is delighted at the amazing resources they now have at their command, they can’t stop wondering what the catch is. But the biggest mystery of all revolves around a small package Angel receives containing an amulet and a handful of dust—which coalesces into a very-much-alive Spike. Angel(us)/Spike; Buffy. Rated NC-17

##  _Chapter 69: Step 5 – Acceptance (Part 2)_

  
  
**  
_Sunnydale, California, The Hellmouth, Nineteen Days Earlier_  
**  


_Still down in the Hellmouth, Buffy and Spike stood together. Spike burning brightly with power produced by the amulet, continuing to blast rays of destructive, cleansing light throughout the formerly dark pit of the Hellmouth. Buffy stood before him, staring at the golden vampire in awe, unconsciously clutching her Scythe._

_“Go on, then,” Spike told her. “Tell Angel I know what it feels like now.”_

_“You can tell him yourself. You’ve done enough,” Buffy insisted. “You could still –”_

“No, you’ve beat them back, it’s for me to do the cleanup,” Spike argued.

_The cavern walls began crumbling around them._

_“Buffy, come on!” Faith yelled from the opening of the seal._

_“Gotta move, lamb. I think it’s fair to say school’s out for bloody summer,” Spike quipped with an affectionate, ironic smile._

_“Spike!” Buffy yelled over the earthquake._

_“I mean it! I gotta do this,” Spike held out his hand to stop her advancement toward him. “Tell Angel – thanks for everything.”_

_Buffy took a step closer, heedless of the potential danger of the power pouring off of him, lacing her fingers with Spike's – and flames enveloped their joined hands. Spike looked down in wonder, because their flesh didn't burn, then he raised his eyes to Buffy's and saw that they were brimming with pride – and tears._

_“I love you,” Buffy declared softly._

_Spike graced her with his patented smirk. “No, you don’t – but thanks for saying it.” Suddenly, another earthquake rocked the foundation, shaking loose Buffy's grip on Spike's hand, and the flame went out. “Now go!” He ordered, and after a second more of hesitation, she did, hurrying up the stone steps and out through the seal. “I want to see how it ends,” he told her retreating form._

_Spike stood like a fiery statue in the crumbling Hellmouth, light burning down on him, turning his body into a funeral pyre while he grinned hugely, as if in the throes of hysterical amusement at the greatest joke in the world – which happened to be on him. The magnified sunlight finally began to destroy the blonde vampire, searing him to dust bit by bit – first his skin singed, then his muscles, then his bones –”_

_And then he was gone._

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Present Day_  
**  


Spike doubled over in pain left over from when he’d burnt up in the Hellmouth, gasping as he materialized in Angel’s office at Wolfram & Hart. He looked around himself with panic-stricken wild eyes. He saw Harmony, Lorne, Wesley, and Fred.

“What – what –?” Spike repeated in confusion.

Harmony put her hands on her hips and glared at Spike. The last time she saw him, he’d ditched her in Sunnydale right before he followed that werewolf Oz to Los Angeles to get the Ring of Amarra from Angel. After all these years, it still irked her. “What the _hell_ are _you_ doing _here_ , Spike?”

“Harmony, please,” Wesley said softly, raising a hand in a placating gesture.

“Spike! Hey buddy, I thought you were dead,” Gunn commented to his left.

Spike spun a half-turn in his panicked state and blinked at the vampire hunter. It was odd seeing Gunn in a three-piece suit.

“Spike, you’re back?” Fred said just as confused as Spike at his predicament.

“Easy, crumb-cake, easy,” Lorne said. He couldn’t feel the emotions Spike was feeling, like he would a corporeal being, but he could definitely see the deer-in-headlights look Spike had. It was like a three-alarm fire siren. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Angel hadn’t spoken yet, because quite frankly, he was in shock. Spike had materialized in his office as if he’d conjured up from his dreams and he was sure he was hallucinating this. Or at least it felt like it. But, the others are witnessing this too. Unless he fell asleep in his desk chair and this dream is _extremely_ vivid. “Spike? Are you real?”

Spike’s wild gaze jerked around at Angel’s voice behind him to his right. He stared wide-eyed at Angel. It reminded Angel of when Spike had been turned and he woke up for the first time. Then, suddenly, without provocation, Spike’s face became his vampire visage and lunged angrily at his Sire, snarling fiercely. Angel braced himself for the impact, but Spike went right through him. Just as surprised, Spike stopped and turned around, looking down at his body – his legs have disappeared inside Angel’s desk.

Spike looked up at the group with a frown. “Bugger.” He looked back down at his body in the desk. “What – what’s happening to me?”

“I’m no doctor,” Harmony said. “But, I think you’re a ghost.”

Spike pointed a finger at her and denied, “I’m no – I’m no bloody ghost.”

“Hey, you’re the one sticking out of a desk, pal,” Harmony snapped back.

“Where did you come from, Spike?” Gunn asked.

Wesley stepped forward and picked up the amulet from the floor. “From this.”

“What’s that?” Fred asked.

Finally finding his voice, Angel replied, “Something I gave to Buffy before –”

“Buffy!” Spike said as he looked around for her. “Is she –?”

“She’s okay,” Angel assured him.

“Where – where is she?” Spike asked.

“Europe, last I heard from her,” Angel said.

“I need to see her . . . talk to her,” Spike said.

“That’s going to be tough,” Angel said sardonically.

“You can’t keep her from me,” Spike scoffed.

“She’s not mine to keep . . . or yours,” Angel reminded him.

“Says you! You have no idea what she –” Spike countered.

“You never had her!” Angel yelled back.

Spike stepped out of the desk and stepped into Angel’s space. “More times than you, you poncy –”

“Oh – my – God! You and the Slayer actually – I mean, I know you had that twisted obsession with her, but – yech! That’s just – yech!” Harmony shuddered in revulsion.

The core group stared at her blankly as she tried to wrap her head around the idea of Spike and Buffy. The others knew about Angel and Spike’s history of Spike cheating on Angel with Buffy when he sent Spike back to Sunnydale when Buffy came back from the dead. When Harmony stormed out of the room, the group turned back to Angel and Spike.

“I must be in hell,” Spike commented as he returned Angel’s glare.

“Uh, no. L.A., but a lot of people make that mistake,” Lorne replied.

Spike held his arms out wide and glared at Angel. “What the bloody hell have you done to me?” He glanced around the office. “What is this place? What the bloody hell is happening?!”

“Just calm down, Spike. We’ll get on it,” Fred said.

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Science Lab, Day_  
**  


The group moved to the science lab. Spike followed them but every so often would become enamored with his newfound mystical state. He tried walking through every façade and pillar between Angel’s office and Fred’s lab.

Wesley sat at a table looking into a microscope while Fred scanned Spike with a handheld device that continuously beeped.

“Do you think we can sell this story to Hollywood?” Lorne asked over Wesley’s shoulder.

“Story?” Wesley asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, two vampires with souls fighting the good fight, with the love of a vampire slayer? I see it staring Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. But then, I see them a lot. Sorry. Hazard of running the entertainment division. Got to get out more.”

“What exactly are doing, Fred?” Spike asked as he stood still while she scanned him.

“I head up Wolfram & Hart’s Science Department,” Fred gave him a small smile.

“I get toasted in the Hellmouth and you took over Wolfram & Hart?” Spike asked Angel disbelievingly.

“This is weird,” Fred said as she picked up a folder. “I’m getting electromagnetic readings consistent with spiritual entities, but there’s no ectoplasmic matrix.”

“Meaning?” Gunn prompted.

“Ectoplasm is what makes ghosts visible to the human eye,” Fred explained. “If Spike is a ghost, technically we shouldn’t be able to see him.” She wrote a few notes in her folder. “And I’m detecting brainwave activity.”

“On Spike?” Angel chuckled. “That is weird.”

“Go screw yourself, Angelus,” Spike said flippantly.

“Also,” Fred continued, ignoring their bickering. “Ghosts generally absorb light and heat energy making the area around them a few degrees cooler. Spike’s radiating heat.”

Spike gave Fred his most flirtatious smirk. “You think I’m hot, do you? I always knew you had a crush on me, Fred.”

Fred pursed her lips at him. “Mm . . . lukewarm. Just above room temperature.”

“If I’m not a ghost, what the hell am I?” Spike asked.

“Whatever he is,” Wesley spoke up while looking into the microscope. “It’s clearly tied to this amulet.” He looked up from the instrument. “Spike’s essence, for lack of a better term, must have been held within it.” He turned to Spike and asked, “Do you have any memory of a strange sensation when it released its energy?”

“What? You mean my skin and muscle burning away from the bone? Organs exploding in my chest? Eyeballs melting in their sockets?” Spike asked sarcastically, then answered in an equally sardonic tone, “No. No memory at all. Thanks for asking.”

“Okay, so he’s connected to the amulet. Last I heard it was buried deep inside the Hellmouth. How did it end up here?” Angel asked.

“Maybe he’s here for a reason. You know, some higher purpose or something he’s destined for. Sent to us by the Powers That Be to help us –”

“Who the bloody hell gave them the right to do that?” Spike scoffed as he paced angrily. “Can’t a man die in peace without some high Almighty deciding it’s not his time? ‘Let’s have a little more fun with him, eh?’ You’d think that saving the soddin’ world would be enough to earn me a rest. You’d think –”

Suddenly, Spike started to fade before their eyes. “Uh, Spike?” Fred cut off his tirade.

“Hmm?” Spike looked down at his fading body. “Oh, balls!” Then, he disappeared.

Fred rushed over to scan the area that Spike previously occupied.

Gunn gestured haphazardly in the air. “Now what?”

“I don’t know. He just . . .” Fred turned and looked at the group who wore equally surprised expressions.

Spike materialized across the room still rambling. When he focused on his surroundings, he turned around to them. They stared at him. “What? What?”

“You took the ‘what’s’ right out of our mouths,” Lorne said.

“Where’d you go?” Gunn asked as he took a step closer.

Spike looked around trying to figure out how he got across the room. “Don’t you know?” Fred asked.

“I – I was –” Spike glared at Angel and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You! This is all your fault!”

“Mine?” Angel said, taken aback.

“You brought that bloody amulet to Sunnydale. You would have been the one to use it, until you chickened out!” Spike accused.

“What did you –” Angel started to retort.

“You heard me!” Spike said incensed. “You left town in the nick of time, didn’t you, before the death and mayhem! Abandoned the woman you claimed to love.”

“She made the call,” Angel told him. “It wasn’t my choice!”

“And _this_ , bloody hell, wasn’t mine! You abandoned me – again! You know, Angel, I’m not you. I don’t give a piss about atonement or destiny. I did it because you cared about it. I got my soul for you! It doesn’t mean I’m going to let myself be led around by the Powers to do as they will!” Spike ranted.

Angel got sick of listening to Spike bitch about his lot in life and walked out of the room.

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Day_  
**  


Angel walked down the hall toward the lobby. Spike materialized out of the wall behind him.

“Running away again?” Spike asked rhetorically. Angel rolled his eyes and continued walking. “Nice new M.O. I can see why heroes like you get rewarded with the shiny new glass and chrome. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m not responsible for what happened to you,” Angel insisted as he walked past Harmony’s desk.

“Angel, it’s almost three o’clock. You have a meeting scheduled –”

“Not now, Harmony,” Angel said.

“And here you’d managed to get the littlest vampire fetching coffee for you. Nice perks for the sell-out,” Spike goaded.

“A little tip, Spike: try not to talk about things you don’t understand,” Angel said.

Spike moved quickly to stand in front of Angel. “I’m not the prat here. I know you, Angel. What do you think you’re doing? You made some devil’s bargain to take over this company. Did you totally lose all common sense when I died? You thought you’d use it to fight the evil of the world from inside the belly of the beast. The trouble is you’re too busy fighting to see you and yours are getting digested.”

Angel sidestepped Spike and stopped in front of the elevator doors. “Not going to happen.”

“Oh, you think you’re in control here? Guess again, mate. You’re no more in control than I am. Except I’m not going to bloody stand for it, while you’re just a blind –” Spike broke off as he looked over Angel’s shoulder to see an hulking monster dressed in a sweater vest and slacks coming at them. “Grox’lar Beast.”

“What?” Angel asked, thinking Spike had finally lost his mind completely.

When Spike continued to look behind him, Angel turned around to see the Grox’lar Beast stepped out of the other elevator and headed straight for them. Angel threw a punch at the demon, but the demon punched him back, knocking him to the ground. Spike threw a punch at the demon’s head, but his fist went right through without making an impact.

“Oh, brilliant,” Spike said as he threw up his hands and walked away.

The demon went straight towards Angel and continued hand-to-hand combat. Angel finally overpowered the demon, throwing him against the wall and knocking him out.

Angel turned to address the lobby in general. “Somebody want to tell me how a Grox’lar Beast got past security? I don’t have time for this.”

“Of course not,” Spike mocked. “Man’s got to stay focused on profit margins and power lunches.”

“Angel,” Harmony started to say as she approached the two vampires.

“Yeah, Spike?” Angel said as advanced on his mate. “I got a business to run. That means responsibilities, appointments to keep.”

“That was your three o’clock,” Harmony chimed in.

“That –” Angel started to rant again as Spike almost cackled in his glee at seeing his Sire riled up. Angel turned to Harmony. “I’m meeting with Grox’lars?! They eat babies!”

“Just their heads,” Harmony shrugged as she looked down at the inert body. “You were supposed to open negotiations with his clan.”

“Negotiations for what?” Angel asked in disbelief.

Gunn walked up to the scene. “To get them to stop eating baby heads.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Angel said and then looked at the body. “Oh, so this – this is bad.”

“No, actually the Grox’lar clan respects someone who takes a strong opening position. Wolfram & Hart didn’t just jack me up with the human laws, also demon laws from every dimension. I probably should have briefed you about the Grox’lar, but we got a little –” Gunn glanced at Spike. “Sidetracked. Plus, I’ve been implementing our reforms. Mostly staff overhaul. I’ve fired forty employees in the past two days.”

“How’s that going?” Angel asked as he walked away from Spike.

“As expected,” Gunn said as he followed Angel. “Anger, tears, venomous death threats.”

“Listen,” Harmony said to Spike. “I know I was a little crabby before. I mean, hello?! A little awkward seeing you after all these years. But if you want to talk or something, you know, about uh –” Spike walked away without acknowledging her. “Okay,” she said to herself. “Too soon. I understand.”

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Gunn’s Office, Day_  
**  


Angel and Gunn were in Gunn’s office.

Gunn held up a voodoo doll that had black fabric for skin and wore a suit similar to Gunn’s. “I caught an associate we laid off trying to smuggle this out of the voodoo division.”

Angel took the doll and then held it up to Gunn. “It’s a nice likeness.”

Spike walked up to the open door. “This place just goes on and on, doesn’t it? Like a ruddy theme park attraction.”

“I’m in a meeting, Spike,” Angel said annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spike mock apologized. “I didn’t care.”

“Look, we’re ruffling a lot of dangerous feathers out there,” Gunn said as if Spike wasn’t there. “There’s going to be backlash. Count on it.”

“Well, we’ll just have to ride out the ripples for a while,” Angel said.

Gunn looked at the door when he heard footsteps. “I’m sensing a ripple on its way now.”

A man wearing a loud blue dress shirt and a polka dotted yellow tie walked into the room. When Angel raised an inquiring brow, the man said, “Yes, uh . . . Novac, sir. Uh, what’s this about you shutting down the Internment Acquisitions Division?”

“Internment Acquisitions?” Angel whispered to Gunn.

“Grave-robbing,” Gunn clarified.

“Listen, I know you fellas are in charge now, and you’re doing a bang up job. I’m with you one-hundred-and-ten percent, but that department brings in mucho revenue to this company,” Novac explained.

“Well, Novac, we’ll just have to tighten our belts and do without,” Angel said.

“You’re not understanding me,” Novac insisted. “. . . Sir. I.A.D. is under contract to provide bodies to Magnus Hainsley. You know who he is, right?” When Angel looked at Gunn for an idea as to who that was, Novac waved his hand dismissively. “Oi! Okay. He’s one of our oldest clients. Big potatoes. We stop delivering and he is not going to be thrilled.”

“Then he’s probably not going to like it when you advise him that he’s no longer our client,” Angel said.

“Me?” Novac asked worriedly.

Angel walked toward Novac. “You got it, counselor. You tell Mister –” he cleared his throat.

“Hainsley,” Gunn provided.

“Hainsley, that Wolfram & Hart is under new management and out of the grave-robbing business. Now, run along and go argue your case,” Angel dismissed him.

“Me?” Novac asked unsure.

“Go away,” Angel ordered.

Novac hurriedly walked out the door, shuddering at the thought of his assignment, when Spike addressed him.

“You don’t have to take that from him, mate,” Spike said as Novac scurried by.

“Stay out of this, Spike,” Angel ground out. “You don’t work here.”

“Damn straight, I don’t,” Spike snapped. “Look at you. This is what you do now? Delegate the dirty work to spineless, low-level employees.” Spike glanced at Novac. “No offense.” As Angel walked back toward Gunn to resume their meeting, Spike scoffed. “The mighty hero reduced to a bloody bureaucrat. If a certain Slayer could see you now –”

“Get out of here, Spike!” Angel said, hurt that Spike would think so little of what he was trying to accomplish here.

“Gladly,” Spike said as he turned and started to walk away. “Cruel enough punishment being stuck here while you play ‘Chairman of the Boring’. But hell if I’m going to spend my afterlife in your stinking city. Go screw yourself, Angel.”

With that he walked away.

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Night_  
**  


Angel sat alone in his office staring out the window, when Wesley walked up to the door. Wesley started to walk away thinking Angel wanted time to himself when Angel spoke up.

“You don’t think he’s really gone, do you?” Angel asked sadly.

“Is that what’s on your mind?” Wesley asked as he stepped into the room.

Angel got up from the couch and walked around his desk to sit behind his desk. “It could have been me, Wes. It was supposed to be me.”

“You’re not feeling guilty?” Wesley asked.

“About Spike?” Angel chuckled half-heartedly. “Buffy trusted him with the amulet. So, no, I don’t feel guilty, but I thought we were past all this backbiting and now it’s like we back to the way we were five years ago.” Angel sighed. “Wolfram & Hart gave me the amulet. They must have expected _me_ to use it. They had to have known it would’ve done to me what it did to Spike, so –”

“Why bother handing you the keys to the kingdom?” Wesley offered as he sat in a chair opposite Angel.

“It doesn’t make sense. What are the Senior Partners playing at?” Angel mused.

“Maybe there’s dissent in their ranks, or maybe there’s another player in the game they – and we don’t know anything about it. Then again, maybe they got exactly what they were after,” Wesley pondered.

Angel happened to look up at that moment and saw – “Spike.”

“He may be the one they –” Wesley continued thinking Angel was adding to the conversation.

Angel turned his chair and looked at Spike in the doorway to his office. “What are you doing here? I thought you left town.”

Spike threw his hands up in exasperation. “Don’t think I didn’t bleeding try. Every time I got as far as the city limits I kept popping back here like my insides were being yanked.”

“Hmm,” Wesley hummed thoughtfully. “I suspected as much. The amulet’s Wolfram & Hart’s property. It’s bound to this place, and since Spike’s connected to it –”

“Hey! I’m nobody’s bloody property Percy. So what? I’m just stuck here forever?” Spike asked. He glared at Angel. “I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Knowing you’ll be haunting me until the end of time?” Angel smirked. “A dream come true, baby boy.”

“Don’t you ‘baby boy’ me, Angel,” Spike retorted.

Harmony knocked on the door before walking in. “Uh, boss? That Novac lawyer you sent over to dump the client – well, he’s back.”

“Okay, send him in,” Angel said.

“Mm,” Harmony said unsure. “Okay.”

A few seconds later two men in suits walked into the room carrying three buckets full of sloppy red liquid, one with a bright yellow polka dotted tie hanging over the side, covered in blood.

“What is . . .?” Angel said as he sat up straight in his chair.

“The men placed the buckets on Angel’s desk.

Angel, Wesley and Spike looked down at the contents. Spike looked up at Angel. “Ol’ buckets here was right. You guys are doing a bang up job.”

**************************

  
  
**  
_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Night_  
**  


Angel walked out to Harmony’s desk where she was on the phone on hold.

Harmony, get me Novac’s contact list, close relations, next of kin, and let’s be discreet about this for the time being, okay?”

“Discreet? Oh, you mean like not telling anyone about bucket-o-lawyer?” Harmony asked.

Angel hit the button on Harmony’s phone, disconnecting her call in case anyone heard her on the other end. “Harmony, contact list.”

Harmony shrugged and hung up the phone just as Gunn walked off the elevator. When he got to Angel, he handed over a file.

“Hey, got word that you wanted the file on Magnus Hainsley. Dig this. He’s a sorcerer, big time. Rich with old money and older mojo. He owns a respectable block of shares in Wolfram & Hart and he’s connected up the wazoo. Carries influence with power players in the entertainment industry, politics –”

Angel glanced through the file and groaned. “He’s a necromancer.”

“Power over the dead,” Wesley commented. “That explains the bodies Wolfram & Hart’s been providing him.”

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Night_**

Angel walked into his office, flanked by Gunn and Wesley.  “This file doesn’t say what he’s doing with them.”  Angel looked up then and saw Spike sprawled out in the chair behind his desk.  “Spike, out of my chair.” 

“Make me,” Spike challenged with a smirk. 

“What’s in the buckets?” Gunn asked curiously. 

Angel sighed as Spike glanced at the buckets before replying, “Your man Novac.  Guess he’s been – what do you call it?  Downsized.” 

“It’s a message from Magnus Hainsley, and I’m going to reply to it personally,” Angel said as he gave the file back to Gunn. 

“You can’t take Hainsley on yourself,” Wesley said anxiously. 

Walking toward his private elevator, Angel said, “I’m not going to risk him turning somebody else into chowder.” 

“Angel, you have a multi-billion-dollar company at your disposal with armed and trained personnel,” Wesley said. 

“They cramp my style,” Angel said as he stepped onto the elevator. 

“Your style’s not going to cut it with a necromancer,” Wesley countered.  “We should probably avoid an eye-for-eye escalation here.” 

“Not going for his eyes, Wes,” Angel said. 

“I know what you should go for,” Gunn smirked.  Angel stopped the elevator doors from closing.  “It’ll hurt him.  Bad.”


	4. Chapter 69-B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline - (Angel: The Series, Season 5)  
> Summary – Angel and the team are stunned when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart give them control of the L.A. office. The gang quickly moves in, and although everyone is delighted at the amazing resources they now have at their command, they can’t stop wondering what the catch is. But the biggest mystery of all revolves around a small package Angel receives containing an amulet and a handful of dust—which coalesces into a very-much-alive Spike. Angel(us)/Spike; Buffy. Rated NC-17

##  _Chapter 69:  Step 5 – Acceptance (Part 2)_

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Underground Garage, Night_ **

Angel walked out of the elevator into the garage.  His cars are lined up along the wall.  He walked toward a black Viper and opened the door only to find Spike sitting inside.

“I knew you’d pick the Viper.  So bloody predictable.”

“Spike, get out of the car,” Angel groused.

“No,” Spike said petulantly.

“What?” Angel said surprised.

“This haunting-you-until-the-end-of-time idea of yours is starting to sound appealing.  I could drive you completely starkers, right out of your gourd.  Yeah, and you wouldn’t be able to do a soddin’ thing about it.”

Angel slammed the door shut and walked over to the next car, a silver Camaro.  He got inside and looked over to see Spike sitting in the passenger seat.  He groaned.

“Fancy a road trip,” Spike commented.  “This’ll be fun, eh?  You and me together again.  So . . . where are we off to?”

“To see the Wizard,” Angel replied as he started the car and drove away.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Foyer, Night_ **

The butler let Spike and Angel inside Hainsley’s house.

“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Hainsley?” the bulter asked.

“Let’s just say he sent us an invitation,” Spike said.

“We’re – I’m from Wolfram & Hart,” Angel introduced himself.

When the butler looked to the blonde vampire for introduction, Spike said, “I’m his date.”  Angel rolled his eyes at that.

“Mr. Hainsley is with a customer at the moment.  I’m afraid he does not suffer interruptions lightly,” the butler warned.

“I’m not so worried about his suffering.  Go ahead and interrupt,” Angel said.

“As you wish,” the butler bowed.  “Please wait here, gentlemen.”

When the butler left, Spike said.  “Oh, life among the power elite.  It’s all so civilized.  Hainsley grinds up one of your people into chum, and you drop by for tea.”

“I’m hoping to avoid a body count here,” Angel said.

Spike looked over Angel’s shoulder into a darkened room filled with what looked to be mannequins.  “No worries.  Looks like this Hainsley keeps one on hand.”

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Parlor, Night_ **

Spike walked into the room and Angel followed.  Angel turned on the light to reveal the room decorated in Victorian style, complete with a few dozen bodies standing around in various poses, as if it were a wax museum.

“Man likes to play with dollies,” Spike scoffed.

“This isn’t for him,” Angel said grimly.  “It’s a showroom.”

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Workshop, Night_ **

The body of a woman lay on the table in the center of a red pentagram that was painted on the floor.  A middle-aged man stood over her chanting eerily, while a demon spoke from the shadows behind him.

“I thought about going older with it.  I don’t know, more distinguished, kind of a fifty-something Shirley Temple Black with it.  You know, that ultra-respectable ambassador to somewhere feel.  But in the end I—I went with pretty.  I suppose we all do, in the end, don’t we?  You know, in the end.  Pretty people just seem to have it so much –”  The demon cringed when the older man stuck his hand in the woman’s stomach.  “Oh, whoa.  That’s something you don’t see every, uh –”  The older man reached a hand out towards the demon.  “Augh!  Mmm!”  The older man glowed orange as the demon’s essence flowed into the man’s body through one hand, and out through the other, into the woman’s body.  “Oh yeah, that’s feelin’ a little weird.”

“Excuse the interruption, sir,” the butler said drolly.  “There are some more men from Wolfram & Hart asking to see you.  They seem rather adamant.”

“Kill them,” Hainsley ordered, never looking up from his work.

“Very good, sir,” the butler said with a bow and left the room.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Parlor, Night_ **

Angel and Spike walked around among the posed bodies in the parlor.

“I don’t know.  Maybe the geezer’s just lonely,” Spike suggested.  “Throws himself a surprise party every night.  Picks out one of these painted pigeons and shows her a good time, if you know what I mean.”  Angel didn’t look impressed.  “What?  I’m sure they don’t mind.”

“Well, I mind,” Angel said.

“Why?  They’re the lucky ones, aren’t they?” Spike said.  “It’s over for them.  They’ve shuffled off, cleanly, the one time.  Nobody’s shoving them back into the stinking world against their bloody will.”

“I mind,” Angel reiterated angrily.

Angel turned when he heard the butler enter the room.

“Mr. Hainsley has asked that I send you back to Wolfram & Hart, gentlemen.”  The butler held up a butcher knife and a meat cleaver.  “In a manner of speaking.”

The butler enacted a swordplay show with the knives, trying to intimidate the two vampires.

“Uh-oh,” Spike chuckled.  “Looks like it’s buckets for you.”

There was a body standing next to Angel holding a teacup with a spoon.  Angel reached for the teaspoon and threw it at the butler.  It landed in his forehead and the butler yelped in pain.

“A spoon?!” Spike said appalled.  “That’s just –”  The butler reached up to his forehead and yanked the spoon out.  He turned to Angel angrily.  Spike smirked.  “Well, okay, that’s more –”  The butler collapsed on the floor dead.  “Disappointing, really.”

Angel turned to Spike exasperated.  “I know you can’t help me, but could you maybe _not_ root for the other team?”

“Hey, I’ll root for anyone with half a chance of taking you down a notch, since I can’t do it,” Spike said.

“What is your problem?” Angel asked.

Spike walked up to Angel ready to lay in on him.  “You are, you ponce!  You’re my problem.  You got it too good.”  Angel walked away leaving Spike to step over the dead butler and follow him.  “You’re king of a thirty-floor castle, with all the cars, comfort, power, and glory you could ever want, and here I saved the world, threw myself on the proverbial hand grenade for love, honor and all that rot, and what did I get?  I got a goodbye fuck, then I got bloody well toasted and ghosted is what I got, isn’t it?  It’s not fair!”

Angel stopped walking and turned to Spike.  “Fair?!” Angel hissed angrily.  “You asked for a soul, I didn’t!  It almost killed me.  I spent a hundred years trying to come to terms with infinite remorse.  You spent a week moaning in my basement, and then you were fine!  What’s fair about that?!  You know, Spike, I –”

Spike started fading again.  “Are you getting blurry, or is it –” Spike suddenly disappeared.

Angel growled in frustration and walked away.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Workshop, Night_ **

Hainsley was rinsing his hands when Angel broke the door down.

Turning at the crash, Hainsley held out his arm in greeting.  “Come in.  It’s open.”

“Hainsley,” Angel said.

Drying his hands, Hainsley said casually, “I didn’t know it was the head cheese himself.  I thought for sure you were another lackey.  You should show more respect.”

The dead woman sat up and looked between them.  “Oh, uh, I can see you guys have a thing going on.”  She hopped off the table and walked towards the door.  “Don’t want to get in your way.  I’ll let myself out.”

Angel grabbed the woman by the arm as she walked by.  Her eyes glowed red and she snarled at him.  Angel punched her out.

“So, how much do you charge, huh?” Angel asked.  “Installing the average demon in a human body?  I’m sure a lot of them would love to pass as people.  You know, walk amongst the sheep.”

“Believe me, friend, the average demon can’t afford it,” Hainsley laughed.

“I’m cutting off your supply, Hainsley.  As of now your body shop is – aah!”

With a flick of his wrist, Hainsley took control of Angel’s body, freezing him in place.  “Who do you think you’re talking to?”  Hainsley turned his hand, causing Angel to groan in pain.  Hainsley pulled Angel toward him.  “I eat the dead for breakfast, son.  And you’re just another plate of bacon and eggs.”  Spike suddenly materialized behind Angel.  “A ghost, huh?  You brought a ghost as your backup, vampire?”

“I not here to back him up.  I just haunt the bastard,” Spike clarified.

“Stay out of this, Spike!” Angel ground out.

“Oh, stick it – as far as it’ll go,” Spike said angrily.  “You go ahead, wiz.  Do what you want.”

Hainsley focused on Angel.  “What I want is to turn you inside out, like a shirt.  I could dust you right now, boy.  Wouldn’t even need a stake.”  He let go of Angel, who grunted and panted from the pain he was in.  “But that would be too big an insult to the Senior Partners to overlook.  Seems that they’ve got plans for you.”

Getting his breathing under control, Angel said, “I’ve got plans of my own.”  Angel took out his number and punched the speed dial for Gunn.  “Gunn, do it.”

Hainsley laughed.  “What was that?  Just call in an airstrike?”

“I just froze all of your bank accounts, terminated your paper assets, and turned your books over to a very motivated contact we have at the IRS.  Five minutes from now, you’ll have nothing but this house.  Ten minutes from now, that’ll go into foreclosure.”

Hainsley frowned.  “You can’t do that.”

“I’ll let myself out,” Angel said.

“It’s not legal.  You think you can get away with that?” Hainsley protested.  “I’ll sue you to hell”

“Good luck.  We’re your lawyers!” Angel said as he walked out.

“This isn’t over, vampire!” Hainsley yelled.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Foyer, Night_ **

Angel walked towards the door as Spike followed him.

“That’s how you’re going to fight the forces of evil now – call the IRS?” Spike asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Angel said.

Mocking, Spike mimed talking on the phone.  “Hello, IRS?  Will you fight my battles for me?  And while you’re at it, will you wipe my wide, spotty –”nbsp; Suddenly, Spike disappeared.

“Oh, thank God!” Angel said as he walked out of the house.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Workshop, Night_ **

Spike suddenly appeared back in Hainsley’s workshop.  “Ass?  Oh, it’s you.”

Hainsley held out his hands in a shrug.  “Power over the dead.  But enough about me.  Let’s talk about you.  You’re a ghost.  Well, close enough, anyway.  That’s just a horrible way to be.  You’re not here, you’re not there, just lost, somewhere in the middle.  And you can’t fight against it.  You can’t fix it.  Hell, you can’t even lift a finger ’cause you simply don’t have any.”

“Yeah,” Spike acknowledge.  “What’s it to you?”

“I can give you back what’s been taken from you – freedom, power of choice.  I can put your destiny back in your own flesh-and-blood hands.  That’s right.  A corporeal body.  I can make that happen.  But to do that, I need you to do something for me.  Something that might require –”

“Hurt Angel, that it?” Spike asked excitedly.  “You want me to hurt Angel?”  He grinned devilishly.  “You’ve come to the right ghost.”

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Night_ **

Gunn had followed Angel into the office.

“I wiped out every asset we could find on Hainsley.  It wasn’t easy.  The man has his fingers in a lot of dirty pies.”

“Yeah, well, I think pies are going to be off his menu for a while,” Angel said.

“Well, it’s got to hurt,” Gunn said as he took a seat.  “I mean, damn, who doesn’t love pie?”

Fred and Wesley walked into the room.

“You’re back,” Fred said pointing out the obvious.

“Hainsley out of business?” Wesley asked.

“Yeah, for the time being,” Angel said.

“So, he’s not going away?” Fred inquired.

“I think that, ‘this isn’t over yet, vampire,’ may be the tipoff.  Look guys, can we get back to my, uh, spiritual crisis?” Angel asked shifting topics.

“Spike, you mean?” Wesley asked.

“He popped out on me at Hainsley’s place.  But we all know he’ll be back and back and back, and I really don’t need it happening.  Any ideas on how we can either make him solid or send him off to the netherworld, anything?” Angel asked.

“He can’t leave, Angel,” Fred said.

“Please don’t tell me that,” Angel groaned.

“Okay, Wesley, you tell him,” Fred said.

“I’ve had my entire department in thorough research mode on the amulet.  There’s not much,” Wesley said.  “Not in the way of releasing Spike from it, anyway.  At least not in the conventional sense.”

And what’s the unconventional sense?” Angel asked.

“Give him eternal rest,” Wesley said.

“And does it include _burying_ the amulet, because that’s already been tried,” Angel said.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Night_ **

Spike appeared in the lobby, and walked by Harmony’s desk on the way to Angel’s office.

“Fine.  Don’t talk to me,” Harmony said as she straightened her desk.

“What?” Spike asked confused.

“The whole time we were a thing you treated me like day-old rat blood, and then you left me in Sunnydale and never came back.  Why would now be any difference, just because you’ve gone all Patrick Swayze.”

“What are you on about?” Spike asked even more confused.

“Well, gee, nothing much.  Just since you’re all souful now, I thought maybe, just maybe, you might’ve learned to open up a little.  You know, talk?  But I guess the leopard can’t change his stripes,” Harmony complained.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut at her denseness.  “Spots, you dink.  Leopards have spots.”

“Oh!  _Excuse me_ , Mr. Brainy.  Thank you so much for sharing.  Wow.  What a breakthrough,” Harmony said sarcastically.

Spike shook his head and walked towards Angel’s office where he overheard them talking about him.

 _“This is an unusual situation, but I think it’s our only choice,“_ Angel said.

 _”It’s what we’d do in any case of a haunting, isn’t it?  An exorcism?”_ Wesley said.

 _“We’re talking about killing him,”_ Fred said sadly.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office, Night_ **

“I mean, I know he’s already dead, but . . .” Fred continued.  “He’d be gone-dead.  Forever.  It doesn’t see right.”

“I agree, but neither is leaving him here, trapped between realms with no control over his fate, not able to touch anything, affect anything.  Unable to fight.  Letting him cross over seems the most merciful thing –”

“Yeah, yeah, mercy.  I’m all for it.  Just tell me how we do it,” Angel said. He was beginning to hate seeing Spike day in and day out and not be able to touch him.

“The amulet’s protected, impervious to anything, but . . . the magic that’s protecting it doesn’t work on hallowed ground,” Wesley said.

“Hallowed, like a church?” Gunn suggested.

“Or cemetery, yes,” Wesley agreed.  “It has to be taken there and destroyed.”

“Destroyed how?” Fred asked warily.

“I think a sharp blow would probably do the trick,” Wesley said.

“Angel, what do you think?” Gunn asked.

Angel sat back in his chair contemplating the options.  “I think I want to sleep on it.”

Fred placed the amulet on Angel’s desk, and then she, Wesley and Gunn left the room.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Bedroom, Night_ **

Angel shuffled into his apartment and got ready for bed.  He’d taken to wearing sweatpants since he slept alone these days.  He got settled into bed with a big sigh.

“Well, look at you,” Spike said from the shadows near Angel’s windows.

“Aw, no.  No.  No, no!” Angel denied repeatedly.

“Sitting in luxury’s ample lap,” Spike teased.  “Top of the world.  Looking down on . . . well, everyone.  It’s good to be king, isn’t it?”

“Ground rules, Spike:  Haunt me all you want during business hours, but this space?  Off limits!” Angel said.

“Relax, Angel.  I didn’t come here for a fight,” Spike said.  He sounded almost serious.

“Really?” Angel asked skeptically.

“Not that I could, right?” Spike arched an eyebrow.  “Can’t touch, can’t affect anything.”  When he saw the stunned expression on Angel’s face that showed that he’d heard them earlier, Spike well almost satisfied.  “Yeah, I overheard your little group powwow about me.”

“How much did you hear?” Angel asked.

“Enough of enough.”

“Look, Spike –” Angel started to explain.

Not wanting to get into it, Spike cut him off.  “Necromancer tried to make a deal with me.”

“What?” Angel asked.

“He said he could bring me back – body and soul – if I used our close personal relationship to double-cross you,” Spike said.

“That’s tempting.  What did you say?” Angel asked curiously.

Spike was actually hurt by that question.  “You see, right there, that’s the problem, Angel.  After all we’ve been through you think you have to ask me that.  I’ve always had your back.  The past five years, I’ve shown you time and again that I had your back.  I got a bloody soul for you.  Every time you’ve ask it of me, I’ve gone back to Sunnyhell and looked after the Slayer.”

“And you fucked her for how long?” Angel goaded.

“And _you fucked_ Fred!  So we’re even!” Spike snapped back.  “Even if Dr. Death could do what he promised, I trust him about as you trust me right now.”

“What the hell do you want from me, Spike?  You were supposed to dead and now you’re here in the middle of the night,” Angel groused.

I can’t live like this, Angel,” Spike admitted with a sigh. “Being useless.  Being nothing.  I want it to end.”

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Cemetery, Night_ **

Angel and Spike walked through a cemetery together.  The lost look on Spike’s face had broken Angel’s resolve and gotten him out of bed.  He got dressed and now here they were.

“Suppose this’ll do,” Spike said stopping at a waist-high tombstone in the cemetery.  “It feels hallowed enough.”

Angel looked at the amulet in his hand, having second thoughts.  “Are you sure you want to do this, Spike?”

Spike scoffed.  “What, do you think I could really standing hanging out with you forever as a wisecracking ghost sidekick?  No bloody thanks.  Come on.  You know as well as I do, it’s for the best.”  He watched Angel pick up an urn from a nearby grave.  “I’m glad it’s you though.  It feels right, you know?  Since you missed my death scene the first time around.  And with you being my Sire and mate.  Circle of death, eh?”

“Goodbye, Spike,” Angel said solemnly.

“See you around, Angel,” Spike said.

Angel picked up the urn and aimed for crushing the amulet, but hit himself in the head instead.

“Uh, I think you missed, babe,” Spike said.

Angel hit himself in the face again, and then suddenly began to levitate above the ground.  The urn dropped from his paralyzed hand as Hainsley stepped out of the shadows.

“And the dead shall rise!” Hainsley said dramatically.  “Just because I say so.”

“Hainsley –” Angel growled.

“Vampire should think twice before messing with a man who wields power over all things lifeless.”  He unceremoniously dropped Angel to the ground like a ton of bricks, knocking him out.  “If you ask my advice.”

“Took your sweet time stepping in, Hainsley.  I came this close,” Spike pressed his fingers together until only a half a millimeter of space was between them, “to getting a one-way ticket to the great beyond.”

“Relax, son,” Hainsley admonished.  “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.  You’re the linchpin of my plan.”

“ _Our_ plan,” Spike corrected.  “And you bloody well better hold up your end of it.  I’m not going to be used by you.”

“Yes, you are,” Hainsley said.  “But afterwards, I’ll give you your reward, just as you asked.  I’ll put you back in the driver’s seat of your afterlife.  Control.  That’s all anyone really wants, isn’t it?”

*************************

**_Los Angeles, Hainsley’s Workshop, Night_ **

Angel woke up to find himself laid out on the stainless steel slab.

“Hello, vampire.  Have a nice nap?” Hainsley asked casually.  Angel tried sit up, but Hainsley used his power to push him back down.  “Naw, don’t get up.  You’ve had a rough day.  You know, so have I, thanks to you.”

“Yours is about to get a hell of a lot worse,” Angel ground out.

“I don’t think so,” Hainsley said confidently.  “Me necromancer.  You – dead.  You can’t lay a finger on me.”

“Maybe not.  But what do you think the Senior Partners are going to do to you when I turn up missing?” Angel asked.

“Oh, you’re not going to be missing,” Hainsley said.  “You’re going to show up to work bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning, when you’ll reverse the seizures on my personal assets and reinstate the Internment Acquisitions Department.”

“And why would I do that?” Angel asked.

“Not you,” Spike said stepping out of the shadows and standing over Angel’s body.  “Me.  Wearing your body.”

“And to think I fell for that trusting line,” Angel said.

“Come on, Angel.  What choice did I have?” Spike asked.  “A bloody exorcism?  Letting you and yours banish me to oblivion?  No, thanks.  Necro here’s going to give me my body back – after I take yours for a test drive, fix his little problems.  And here’s the kicker:  I go in, and you go – pfft!  Off to never-never-come-back land.  And then, yours very truly will be running the show.  Your cars, your fancy digs, everything – everyone – I deserve, will be mind.”  He looked wistful for a moment.  “And maybe this time I’ll have a go with Fred.  Maybe then she’ll be able to make a comparison on who’s a better lover.  Hmm?”

“Shut up,” Angel glared at Spike.

“You know what?  You’re right,” Spike nodded and stepped back.  “Let’s do this, already.  I’m itching to get physical.”

“I’ve never installed anyone in a conscious dead body before,” Hainsley sheepishly admitted.  “I imagine this is going to be extremely painful.”

Hainsley chuckled as he started chanting again.  He plunged his hand inside Angel’s stomach.  Hainsley reached back toward Spike and absorbed Spike’s energy into his own body until Spike disappeared.  Hainsley’s hand and arm glowed orange as Spike’s essence traveled through him towards Angel’s stomach, but stopped short of going in.

“Unh!  What?” Hainsley groaned in pain.  “What are you doing?”

The orange glow traveled back up Hainsley’s arm and disappeared into his chest.

“Spike!” Angel grunted.  “Would you mind?”

Hainsley’s hand jerked out of Angel’s stomach.  “No!  Noooo!” the necromancer cried as he fought with Spike to retain control over his own body.

Angel bounced up off the table and faced off with Hainsley, kicking the middle-aged man across the room.  “I can touch you now, Hainsley.”

For a minute, Hainsley was in control again and used his power to stop Angel, throwing the vampire across the room.  “Think you’re clever, eh?  But –” Hainsley grunted as Spike wrestled inside him.  “Your ghost can’t control me for long.  I hold the power.  I rule the dead.”  Hainsley reached toward Angel, but couldn’t control him anymore.

“Not today,” Angel said before advancing on Hainsley.  They fought until Angel ultimately pushed Hainsley into a nearby table, knocking him to the ground.  Hainsley got to his feet again and engaged Angel in hand-to-hand combat.  Angel threw a blade at Hainsley, cutting his head off.  Hainsley’s head fell to the floor revealing Spike’s head above Hainsley’s neck.”

“Oh, bollocks,” Spike swore as Hainsley’s body fell to the ground.  “I was just getting warmed up.”

“That was you hitting me?” Angel asked annoyed.

“That last bit, yeah,” Spike admitted.  “Hainsley’s been dead since he hit the table.”  When Angel frowned, Spike added cockily, “Oh, come on.  I had to get a few licks in, didn’t I?”

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, the Next Day_ **

Angel and Wesley walked together through the lobby to Angel’s office.  Angel stopped at Harmony’s desk for his messages.

“I see,” Wesley said.  “So, Spike came to you with this plan.”

“More or less,” Angel said.  “Once he learned Hainsley used himself as a conduit for body transfers, our trap fell into place.”

Harmony handed Angel a file as Wesley said, “That was a bit reckless.”  He thought about the implications of ghost!Spike being around.  “If Spike’s going to be sticking around, it’d be prudent of him to share his plans with the rest of us in the future.”

Angel chuckled.  “Yeah, well, sharing’s not something Spike does very well.”

“Preaching to the horse’s mouth,” Harmony said to herself oblivious to the strange looks Angel and Wesley gave her.

**************************

**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Day_ **

Fred walked into her office in the Science Department.  Spike stood in the doorway waiting for her.

The suddenness caused Fred to startle for a second.  “Spike.  What are you – can I help you?”

“Well, that’s the heart of it, isn’t it?  The crux.  The nub,” Spike said cryptically.

“I’m sorry?” Fred asked.

“You’re the smart one, aren’t you.  The go-to girl who knows all about this ghost mumbo-jumbo,” Spike said.

“Actually, Wesley’s the occult expert.  He’d know more about it than me,” Fred said as she stepped closer to Spike.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but the hows, what-ifs and why-fors are your cup of tea, luv.  You figure things out in that cute little noggin of yours,” Spike said and watched Fred preen under his praise.

“What do you need, Spike?” Fred smiled.

“I’m slipping,” Spike said softly.

Fred became serious then.  “What?”

“I don’t want to go, but it’s like – it’s like the ground underneath me is . . . splitting open and my legs are . . . straddling both sides of this bloody big chasm.  It’s getting wider, pulling me in,” Spike confessed.

“Is that – is that what’s happening when you keep vanishing?” Fred asked.

Looking away from her, Spike said, “I know what’s down there – where it’s trying to take me – and it’s not the place where heroes go.  Not by a bloody long shot.  It’s the other one.  Full of fire and torment.  And it’s happening.  And I’m terrified.”  He finally looked at Fred, a haunted look in his blue eyes.  “Help me?”


	5. Chapter 70

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline - (Angel: The Series, Season 5)  
> Summary – Angel and the team are stunned when the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart give them control of the L.A. office. The gang quickly moves in, and although everyone is delighted at the amazing resources they now have at their command, they can’t stop wondering what the catch is. But the biggest mystery of all revolves around a small package Angel receives containing an amulet and a handful of dust—which coalesces into a very-much-alive Spike. Angel(us)/Spike; Buffy. Rated NC-17  
>  **Special Guest Appearances in this chapter**

##  _Chapter 70:  Step 5 – Acceptance (Part 3)_

  


**_San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night_ **

John Winchester was near the Dawn Mine in the San Gabriel mountains. A few teenagers had gone missing up in the mountains while looking for a place to be together. He left a message for Dean, explaining where he was headed, and that it shouldn’t take him more than a week to investigate. If he needed backup, he’d call again. Dean was on his own case, working a phantom traveler haunting a certain back country road in Texas.

From his research, John learned that the Dawn Mine was one of those forgotten gold mines that provided a glimpse into the past, and California's Gold Rush. The entrance to the mine was a half-mile hike up Millard Canyon, to Millard Falls. Teenage boys seemed to be using it as a place to take their dates, hoping Millard Falls would be so romantic they’d get lucky.

John grunted, panting a little as he made the trek up the canyon, to the mine, by the light of his flashlight. When he made it to the entrance, his EMF meter began chirping like an electronic cicada, in his coat pocket. He pulled it out, watching the needle dance all over the scale. He held out the meter in front of him, making his way inside the mine. Following the track past the mining car, his flashlight flickered out, and he heard a whizzing sound, ducking just as a pickaxe hurtled over his head, embedding itself in the wall.

**************************

**_City Park Near the offices of Wolfram & Hart, A Week Later, Night_ **

Several cars were parked in a row alongside a small park bench where Angel, Gunn, Lorne, Wesley, and Fred gathered for a late dinner.

“Hey, uh, who wants some Mu Shu?  I got beaucoup Mu Shu here,” Lorne offered.

“I’ll take some, thanks,” Fred accepted, scanning the area with her instrument, looking for any bugs the Senior Partners may have hidden to track them, or to listen in on anything they said.  “Angel, this little picnic was such a good idea.”

“Yeah, man,” Gunn agreed.  “Why haven’t we done this before?”

Fred walked around their bench, scanning Wesley, while Lorne operated the other end of the scanning device, which was encased in a silver briefcase.

“Well, you know, you’ve all been working so hard –” Angel began, trying to make light of it.

“Has anyone seen the plum sauce?” Wesley asked, interrupting him.

Fred stopped scanning Wesley, putting the scanner back in the briefcase, on the picnic table.  “We’re clean.  Nobody’s listening.”

“You were late,” Angel accused Wesley.

“I thought I was being followed,” Wesley explained, fixing himself a plate of food.

“I get that we have to be careful, but it feels weird hiding from the company we’re supposed to be running,” Gunn told them, picking at the food on his plate.

“We’re not hiding, we’re being safe,” Angel corrected.  “There are factions at Wolfram & Hart, people who want to see us destroyed.”

“But still, it’s not like everyone there’s evil,” Fred reasoned.  “I mean, we work with these people.  Some of ’em I see more than I see you guys, at least lately, anyway.”

“And you think you can trust him?” Wesley blurted.  Fred gave him a confused look.  “ _Them_ ,” he corrected.  “Do you think you can trust _them_?”

“What?” Fred’s brow furrowed.

“These – people, the ones you’re spending so much time with lately.  Knox, for example,” Wesley clarified.

Fred blushed in embarrassment.  “Uh, we’re, you know, heh heh, friendly, but he’s under me –” She blushed a deeper red.  “Or I’m on top of him.”  _God, that sounded even worse._   “ _Professionally_.  All I’m saying is he – he’s not evil.”

“I think we’re all agreed that the Senior Partners are,” Angel broke in before Fred could make any more faux pas.  “They put us in charge for a reason.  What we need to know is – why?”

“We’ve only been there a month,” Gunn defended.

“Turns out running a company doesn’t leave a lot of time for, you know, covert ops,” Fred added.

“Yeah, I’m up to my horns in schmoozin’ starlets and boozin’ hipsters, Angel,” Lorne put in.

“What about Gunn?” Wesley asked, his eyes narrowing on the former vampire-hunter.

“What about _Gunn_?” Gunn asked angrily.

“It’s – well, what they put in your head,” Fred interjected, trying to avoid a confrontation.  “All that law knowledge and whatever.  Maybe you know something, more than the rest of us.”

“The alteration to your mental capacity –” Wesley continued.

“My capacity’s the same as it’s always been,” Gunn cut in.  “The good doctor just revved up some idlin’ brain cells, set ’em in motion.”

“It’s a legitimate concern,” Angel pointed out.  “You gave them access to –”

“I made a deal,” Gunn stated.  “We _all_ did.  Seems like I’m the only one who’s willing to accept that.  Everybody here got something out of this.”

“Fear, mistrust,” Angel nodded.  “A _great_ motor pool.”

“I got the Nancy Sinatra collection.  Original forty-fives,” Lorne chirped.

“I did get a rather nice pen,” Wesley added, taking an expensive pen from his pocket, admiring it.  “Sterling.  Has my name on it.  Which is _not_ the point at all.”

“No, the point is, what?  That I’m some spy for the Senior Partners?” Gunn demanded.

“Nobody’s saying that,” Angel replied.

“Just thinking it!” Gunn countered.

“No, Charles,” Fred placated.

“The point is:  the Senior Partners have a plan for us, and if we’re not prepared –” Angel began.

“Angel,” Fred cut him off.  “It’s not like we don’t want to be ready.  We just have, you know, plates, big, heaping, full plates.”

“Between running our departments, handling clients, dealing with Spike –” Wesley started to tick off reasons for the slow pace.

Angel held up a hand in a halting motion.  “Spike is a distraction.  As soon as he’s released from his ties with Wolfram & Hart –”

“That could take years,” Wesley groaned.

“Using the amulet to destroy the Hellmouth, it turned Spike into –” Fred started to say.

“A spook?” Lorne finished.

“Well, he’s more than a ghost.  He’s something unique,” Fred corrected.

“Regardless, whatever binds him –” Wesley continued.

Suddenly, the ringing of Angel’s phone rent the quiet night.  “Hold that thought,” Angel said, moving to answer it, not seeing Wesley irritably rolling his eyes.

“Hello?” Angel greeted.

A husky voice, roughened by years of drinking, caressed Angel’s ear.  “This is Dean Winchester.  You called me before saying you knew my dad.  Well, I haven’t heard from him in a while, and I think something’s up.”

“I haven’t heard from him.  Do you want me to have my contacts put out the word for any rumors?” Angel asked, ignoring the strange looks his group was giving him.

“He was working a case in the San Gabriel mountains.  I’m on my way there from working a case in Texas, but,” Dean paused, trying to tamp the worry in his voice.  “I’m on my way there now.  I may need your help.  You called me out of the blue once, asking for help for your friend, and because you said you knew my dad, I took a chance and gave you my brother’s number. I may need to collect on the favor.”

Angel considered this.  Of course, Dean wouldn’t call Sam.  Even when Angel found Sam, and asked for help with Cordelia, it took a bit of maneuvering to get Sam to finally agree to break away from his college life to return to a job that he thought he'd put behind him.  Angel got the sense that Dean and Sam weren’t speaking to each other then, and that hadn’t changed, now.  Angel glanced over at his team.  They were still eating Chinese while looking at him with curious expressions.  He wondered how much he should tell them about what Dean’s family did.

When silence ensued, Dean glanced at his phone, seeing the call hadn’t dropped.  He put the phone back to his ear.  “Hello?”

“Yeah, Dean.  I’m here,” Angel assured him.  “How much information am I allowed to tell my team, so I can start a search until you get here?”

“Enough to have a shot at finding him, but not so much that it would jeopardize anything he may be working on.”

“Right,” Angel acknowledged.  “I’ll call you back after I talk to them.”

Angel heard Dean talking to himself under his breath.  “I’ll just be over here, going out of my mind, while you have a conversation.”  Angel was sure the hunter hadn’t meant to give voice to his fears while a complete stranger was listening in.

“Give me ten, fifteen minutes, Dean,” Angel tried to sound confident and professional.  He hung up after saying goodbye, pocketing the phone.

Angel moved closer to his team, preparing to fill them in.  “That was a guy who's calling in a favor.  Someone was up in the San Gabriel mountains and got lost.  He’d like us to help him find the guy.”

“Are you going to tell us who this mystery guy is?” Gunn demanded, still fuming that, five minutes earlier, everyone was ganging up on him about Wolfram & Hart enhancing his mental faculties.

“He’s the guy who helped me with Cordy,” Angel explained.  “Now, he needs our help.”

“It’s just a little suspicious that this stranger is calling your personal cell,” Wesley interjected.

“Are you going to help, or analyze my motivations all night?” Angel asked, walking past the group, toward his car.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Day_ **

Angel and Gunn were talking as they walked together through the lobby of the law firm, Angel holding up an eight-by-ten topography map of the San Gabriel mountains.

“Please tell me there is a much larger version of this somewhere,” Angel complained, squinting at the tiny lines.  “Is this a stream, running through the mountains?”

Gunn looked at the map over Angel’s shoulder.  “Actually, I think that’s a path up the mountain.”

“These ranges look close together.  Hopefully he’s not too hurt, if he is at all.  Looks a like a dangerous hike.  Who would choose to go into the mountains?” Angel pondered out loud.

Gunn pressed the button when they got to the elevator.  “I looked into why someone would go up there; it seems to be a teenagers’ lovers’ leap thing, but some people have gone missing up there, over the years.  This mystery guy you have us looking for isn’t the first one.”  Gunn pulled out a folder that was tucked under his arm.  “Over the past few years, ten teenage couples went missing in the mine shafts.  That must have been why the mystery guy went up there to investigate?”

The elevator opened and Angel stepped inside, Gunn following.  “Yeah, probably.”

***************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Day_ **

Fred was poring over reports of those who'd gone missing around the San Gabriel mountains, working single-mindedly, when Spike materialized in her office.

“Well, aren’t we the busy little beaver,” Spike commented.

“Hi, Spike,” Fred greeted, unfazed by his sudden appearance.  By now, she was used to him popping up in the strangest places.

“I don’t suppose all this bugaboo’s about yours ghostly?” Spike inquired hopefully.

“What?” Fred asked distractedly.  “No, it’s not you.  It’s –”

“Angel’s mystery friend.  Right.  Heard.  About.  That.  Bloody shame the guy’s missing and all, but –”

“Spike, I’m sorry, but I’m kind of busy right now, with the situation,” Fred apologized, gathering her papers and walking towards the door.

“Hey, _I’m_ a situation, remember?  I’m a bloody phantom!  And you and your serious girl spectacles were going to help me with my bloody problem!”

“I know, and I bloody will,” Fred repeated his colloquialism.  “I had some ideas.”

“Really?” Spike said hopefully, raising a brow.  “What?  What ideas?”

“They’re going to have to wait until –” Fred trailed off, scanning her files.

“Later?” Spike finished.  “There may not be a later, luv.  It’s getting worse,” Spike told her.

Fred turned a concerned look Spike’s way.  “Worse?  You mean your –”

“My winking out of existence?  Yeah,” Spike confirmed.  He looked out of her office window.  “And I’m not talking about quick pops to the netherworld.  They’re lasting longer now.”

“How long?” Fred asked.

“Feels like forever,” Spike replied, turning and walking closer to her.  “Look, something’s trying to hold onto me – on the other side.  If you don’t do something soon, one of these times I – I may not come back.”

“Wesley might be able –” Fred offered.

“No!” Spike cut her off.

“He knows more about the mystical than –” Fred started to argue.

“I can’t,” Spike declined, taking a step back from her.  “Things haven’t been the same between he and I since he tried to kill you while under the influence of that demon kid’s blood.”

“What?” Fred asked.  “What did you do, Spike?”

“Why am _I_ to blame?” Spike asked defensively.  When she just stared at him, waiting for an answer, he sighed.  “I gave him some words of advice is all.  Look, I just don’t want anyone else to know about my condition, right?  Last thing I need is this getting back to Angel.”

Fred strode to the door, her arms full of files.  “Spike, I appreciate your condition, but right now we have a more pressing priority.  Like finding and helping Angel’s friend.”

Spike bounced on his feet.  “And me, I’m just left to fade into nothingness?”

Fred shook her head at Spike.  “There’s no need to be dramatic.  Look, just try not to disappear, and we’ll figure it out eventually.  This place?  We have access to everything.”  With that, she walked out the door leaving Spike to ponder that parting remark.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day_ **

Angel paced the lab as Fred, Wesley, and Gunn worked busily at separate computers.

“We’re useless.  Is that what you’re trying to tell me?  All these resources –” Angel grumbled.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Wesley commented.

“Ten years of disappearances, and a legend of a haunted mine shaft, is all we've got.  Is that what I’m supposed to tell my contact?” Angel asked.

“Well, it’s not like we have a crime scene, or fingerprints, Angel.  We’re working blind here,” Fred pointed out.

Suddenly, Spike appeared in the lab.  “Bloody shame, not asking for details.  Somebody’s slipping,” he remarked pointedly at Angel.

“Psychics are working on traces in the area.  They picked up images of a mine shaft, but nothing is marked up there.  Hasn’t been for years.”

“There has to be something,” Angel growled.

Spike watched his Sire.  “That’s rough, mate.  ’Cause lost in the mountains this long without water?  Doesn’t look good for this missing bloke.”

“I’ll find him before that,” Angel declared.

“What happens if you get there and he’s dead from dehydration?  What are you going to tell the bloke looking for him?” Spike asked.

**************************

  


**_San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Day_ **

John Winchester managed to kill the Wendigo that had made the mine its home, but John came out of it with a sprained ankle, and his canteen was getting low on water.  He needed pain killers for his leg and abdomen, and his back was killing him; courtesy of having been slammed into a rock wall.  When that happened, he'd unfortunately landed heavily on his cell phone, smashing it, so he couldn’t call anyone for help.  He decided that the moral of this little excursion was: carry more than one cell phone with you at all times.

John flipped the switch on his flashlight, but nothing happened, other than a pathetic click.

“Damn it,” John cursed, hobbling toward the speck of daylight he could make out, up ahead.  He hoped there were no obstacles between where he was, and his destination, for him to stumble over, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day_ **

Fred examined a photo of a topographical map that displayed the land mass more clearly.  It showed any cliffs, rivers, streams, and vegetation in the mountains.  Lorne peered at the screen from over her shoulder.

“This map has all the mines marked,” Fred commented.

“Tick-tock, Angel,” Spike said.  “This late in the day, with that many mines, and a missing person with little or no water?”

“I’m at the DMV, searching for the truck that was last seen by a traffic camera going up the San Gabriel mountain road,” Wesley reported to Angel.

“We’re networked to traffic cameras?” Gunn asked, surprised.

“Yep,” Wesley replied distractedly.

“I’ll look at the cameras,” Gunn offered.  “You get set to run with it if I find a match.  ’Course I might leak it to the Senior Partners, ’cause we’re tight like that.”

“Just do it,” Wesley groused.

Spike hovered around Fred.  “You know, luv, a lot of fuss over one guy.  Other things to do around here – important things.”

Angel glared at his mate.  “You know that whoosh thing that you do when you’re suddenly not there anymore?  I _love_ that.”

“10:19 four nights ago, 1986 GMC Sierra Grande 4x4, went up the canyon road, toward the mines.”  Gunn handed Angel a print out of the last traffic camera shot of the truck.

“That’s it?” Angel asked.

“License number: C5G 8R3.  No real address.  Seems to be a drop box in Colorado,” Wesley said.  “But his name is Elroy McGillicuddy.”

Angel smirked at the fake name.

**************************

  


**_San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night_ **

John finally stumbled out of the cave after dusk descended over the land.  Before pitch black made it impossible to see anything, he built a small fire using the Zippo in his coat pocket.  Pulling up his pant leg, he examined the swelling of his ankle by firelight.  It was nothing but dark shadows on his skin.  He groaned at the condition he was in, lying back on his makeshift bedroll, and staring up at the twinkling stars.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Garage, Dusk_ **

The team spent all day narrowing down which mines to explore first.  The elevator doors opened to the garage, and Angel chose his old 1967 Plymouth GTX to drive; considering who he was looking for, he didn’t want to appear ostentatious.  Once he got in, shutting the door, Spike materialized in the passenger seat beside him.

“So, decided to take the ol’ Angel-mobile out for a drive before she becomes a rusted bucket of bolts?” Spike asked conversationally.

Angel rolled his eyes.  “You’ve become more annoying than usual, since you became a ghost.”

“How else am I going to get Fred to work on making me flesh and blood again if I don’t pester her?” Spike inquired.  “So, where are we headed?”

“Why don’t you pick up the map and find out?” Angel asked, striving to be equally annoying.

Spike held up his hands, trying to touch the dashboard, only to have his fingers disappear.  “I can’t.”

“Then, you’ll just have to sit there and see where I’m going,” Angel told him, starting the car and pulling out of his personal parking spot, speeding into the darkness of the world he knew.

**************************

  


**_New Mexico-Arizona Border, Night_ **

The Impala’s engine purred as it sped down the highway.  Dean Winchester had been driving ever since he hung up with Angel.  He merged onto the I-10 West passing through New Mexico, and crossing into Arizona.  Classic rock blared through the speakers, and he was singing along to Bob Seger’s **_Against the Wind_** when his phone rang.

Dean pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID:  _Angel_.  He answered it.

“Dean?  It’s me, Angel.  We figured out a general location for your dad.  I’m in the car, on my way there.”

After Angel rattled off the location of the starting point of the search, Dean hung up, put the pedal, literally, to the metal, and displayed blatant disregard for the posted speed limit.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Highway, Night_ **

Angel hung up with Dean, groaning, when he heard Spike hum in an ‘uh-huh’ way.

“What?” Angel asked.

“So, who is the bloke we’re looking for?  Who’s dad is he?” Spike asked curiously.

“Drop it, Spike,” Angel warned.

“It’s a long drive to wherever we’re headed.  There’s only so many channels on the radio and your jalopy doesn’t play CDs.  So, let’s talk.  Who’s father are we looking for?”  Spike pressed.

Angel growled as he drove on, a determined expression on his face.

**************************

  


**_San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night_ **

John just discovered the trail leading back to the main road when he heard footsteps coming toward him.  A male voice with a British accent was talking nonstop.  John tightened his fingers around the grip of his gun at his side and readied himself to shoot if he was accosted.  He rounded the corner of vegetation and saw, by moonlight, a dark-haired guy about Dean’s height, and another person who was a few inches shorter.

“John Winchester?” the dark-haired one inquired.

John cocked his weapon at his side.  “Yes?”

“Your son, Dean, called me, asked me to look for you,” Angel said.  “I’m Angel.”  He glanced at his companion.  “This is Spike.”

“Angel,” John relaxed a little finally recognizing a voice he hadn’t heard in years.  The guarded tension left his body when he heard that Dean had sent them.  “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s on his way here, from Texas,” Angel informed him as they stopped in front him.

“So, you’re the infamous John Winchester,” Spike commented.

“How do you know who I am?” John asked, suspicious of the blonde man’s tone.

“You don’t kill a horde of demons without making waves.  Besides,” Spike shrugged and gestured towards Angel.  “I’m mated to the bastard.  It’s not like he can keep a secret from me for long.”

It took a minute for Spike’s words to sink in, and he groaned.

“Did you kill the monster you came hunting for?” Angel asked, ignoring Spike.

John looked skeptically between the two men before answering.  “Yes.  I killed him.  Got a lot of aches and pains in the process.”  John rotated his shoulders as if he could work out the kinks.

“Then what do you say we get off this mountain?” Angel suggested, turning to lead the way down the trail, John limping after him.

**************************

  


**_San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night_ **

Angel, Spike, and John made it down to the highway just as a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala jerked to a halt, tires screeching.  The engine died, and Dean jumped out of the car.

“Dad!?  Are you okay?” Dean asked worriedly, hurrying over to them.  John stood still, his injured ankle causing him to favor the leg.

“Yeah, Dean.  I’m fine,” John said gruffly, trying not to reveal pain in his face or voice.  He turned to Angel and Spike.  “Thanks for coming to check on me – even if my son here got a little anxious.”

“Not a problem, John,” Angel said.

Dean took his father's wrist, of the hand not holding the gun, drawing John's arm around his neck, helping him to the truck.  “Are you sure you can drive, Dad?”

“Yeah.  The motel isn’t far from here,” John assured him.

“Thanks again, for looking for him,” Dean said.

Angel nodded, watching as Dean helped John hobble to the old beat up truck.

“It’s sort of nice to know there are decent _normal_ people out there, helping us fight the evil-demon population,” Spike remarked, watching John get into the truck, and Dean, into the Impala.

“Yeah.  They are a good family.  Let’s get back home.  It’s been a long night,” Angel said, turning and going back to his car, getting in and gunning the engine.

**************************

  


**_Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Night_ **

When they returned, Angel said a dismissive goodnight before going up to his penthouse apartment, leaving an otherworldly Spike to his own devices, in his office.

Spike wandered around the firm for a while, getting acquainted with the place, and somehow found himself in Fred’s darkened office.  He turned toward the soft sound of her footsteps.

Fred walked into her office, after a conversation with Wesley, turning on the light and giving a small gasp of surprise when she saw Spike standing in the corner, barely visible.

“Spike, I’ve been looking for you,” Fred remarked breathlessly.  “You were there again, where you go when you’re not – here.”

Spike had half-a-mind to tell her that he’d been with Angel this whole time, but thought better of it.  “I was there.  Nowhere really.”  _In the middle of the mountains looking for a hunter._   “I didn’t think I was coming back.”

“But you did,” Fred laughed nervously.  “Mostly.  But still, you’re here.”

“Last gasp before eternal fire and brimstone,” Spike commented dryly.  “Let’s party.”

“We have to tell Angel,” Fred insisted.

“No,” Spike said in a tone of finality.

“But he could do something, talk to the Senior Partners,” Fred suggested.

“I said no, Fred,” Spike bit out.

Fred squared her shoulders.  “Okay, then I’m going to help you.  Well, I – I don’t know exactly, but I am going to find a way to bring you back, really bring you back.  I promise.”

Spike’s form became more visible, until it looked like he was flesh and blood she could reach out and touch.  “Well, all right, then.  No need to be dramatic.”

**************************

  


**_Best Western/Glendora Inn, Glendora, California, Night_ **

“Why’d you call Angel into this?” John asked gruffly, watching his son raise his pant leg in order to examine his swollen ankle.

“Would you I rather left you out there in the mountains to die?” Dean asked angrily, none-too-gently settling the ice pack he'd made from a motel washcloth, and ice from the machine outside, on the injured limb.

John hissed.  “I was fine – until the Wendigo tripped me up, but I killed it, and made it out of there.”

“You were in the mountains with a broken cell phone.  If I hadn’t called Angel, you may very well have still been there until the next person who decided to take a hike, discovered your bones.”

“Damn it, Dean –”

“Damn it, Dad,” Dean mimicked.  “Sam’s off at college.  You and I are all we have left of this family.  Be reckless all you want, on your own, but take more than one cell phone in case I _can’t_ call anyone to save your ass.”

John sighed.  “Fine.”

“Fine.” Dean echoed, before turning out the light and falling into the empty bed across from John’s bed.


End file.
